Where This Road Will Go
by piratewench78
Summary: A little backstory, on how Deacon and Rayna started out, before Rayna got her record deal. How did that one moment change the trajectory of their lives going forward?
1. Chapter 1

For a little while, I thought it might end us. It surely wasn't what we'd planned, those nights on that rickety old bus, scrunched into that little bed in the back, talking about our hopes and dreams for the future. Those hopes and dreams were that we would be the next Johnny and June, Emmylou and Gram, Tammy and George. For a while there, I didn't think there was a glass of whiskey deep enough to cover up the pain.

* * *

Watty met me at a nondescript little diner not far from the little East Nashville apartment where Deacon and I lived. He had called that morning and said he wanted to see me. Just me. I probably should have been suspicious then, but, truthfully, I was a little hungover and Deacon was a lot hungover, so he didn't mind. I brought him some aspirin and a glass of water and left it on the little table by the bed, but not before he grabbed me and pulled me down on top of him.

"Deacon, I'm going to be late," I said, laughing as I did. Then I moaned as he ran his hand over my breast. He kissed me, tugging at my lip until I opened my mouth and let his tongue tangle with mine, getting me all hot and bothered.

He slid his hand down to my leg, pushing up my denim skirt and flicking his fingers over my panties, between my legs. "Just want you to remember what you're missing," he murmured. He looked at me, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "Don't stay long," he said, moving his hand to cup my ass.

I didn't want to go at all now, but it was Watty. So, reluctantly, I gave Deacon another deep, lingering kiss, then made myself get up off the bed. I stood looking at him, smoothing down my skirt, still a little breathless. He looked up at me with a little smile on his face. God, I loved him. I couldn't get enough of him, in any way, shape or form.

I ran my tongue lightly over my lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can," I said.

* * *

As I drove the short distance to the diner in Deacon's rattly old truck, I thought that I'd been incredibly lucky to have met Deacon Claybourne that night at the Bluebird. Watty had thought we'd make a good pair and he was right. I was just sixteen then. Barely. I had been sneaking around for a few months, playing at open mics, trying to make my dream of being a country music artist a reality. Daddy didn't understand. Actually he forbade me to do it. Of course, he was never around to really monitor that. Ever since Mom had died, when I was twelve, he was always off on some business trip, leaving my sister Tandy and me alone in the house, with just the servants as supervision.

Whenever he caught me playing the guitar Mom gave me or singing in my room, he would rage at me. I didn't really understand why it was such a big deal, except that it probably had to do with the fact that Mom was the one who'd encouraged me. They had always been fighting, long before the car accident that killed her. Tandy and I would huddle in her bed, unable to keep the sounds of their vicious arguments at bay. I would cry and Tandy would hug me, telling me it would be okay, that she would protect me. That it was the two of us against the world.

It only stopped when Mom died. And then Daddy was so distant. I shook my head and made a noise. Daddy was out of my life now. That had happened when I'd come home after my first paying gig to find all my stuff in the foyer. He'd told me that if I kept at this "folly", that I couldn't live in his house. _if you live in this house, you have to go by my rules._ And that meant I couldn't follow my dream.

But he had underestimated my determination. I know he thought I'd give in. I was sixteen, after all. What would I do? Where would I go? I had no money, I had nothing. I remember standing there, a little in shock, just looking at my suitcases, all lined up. I imagined that Imogene, the housekeeper, had packed them all, probably crying a little bit. But no one defied Daddy. No one but me, of course.

He had appeared at the top of the stairs then. I looked up and he stood there, his face all screwed up with anger. "I told you, Rayna," he said. "If you kept on with this little folly of yours, you were on your own. So now what are you going to do?"

I stood there, looking at him, in my short denim skirt and gingham top and my red cowboy boots. My knees were shaking and I felt like I was going to throw up. But I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes. "I'm going to follow my dream, Daddy," I said, my voice shaking just a little. I hoped not enough for him to tell.

He stood there for a moment. Then he scowled at me. "Then you'll do it on your own," he said, his voice flat. And he turned and walked away.

"Oh, you don't have to worry, Daddy!" I shouted after him. "I'm _never_ coming back here!" I couldn't help the tears that started running down my cheeks, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let Lamar Wyatt tell me what to do. So I went and opened the front door and started taking my suitcases out on the front porch. When I got them all out, I slammed the door shut. Then I put everything in my car and I drove out of his driveway.

I frowned as I thought of that scene, just as I pulled up to the diner. I parked the truck and got out, hurrying in, shaking off the stench of that long ago moment as I did. Watty was waiting for me, in a booth, and waved me over. I slid into the opposite bench and smiled at him, taking his offered hand and squeezing it. "Hey, Watty," I said.

"Hey there, my little songbird. Thanks for coming," he said with a smile.

"Of course." I'd do anything Watty asked. He was the one that had discovered me, had paired me with Deacon, and had gotten us started. He had helped us find a manager and had even loaned us the money for our first tour bus. Deacon Claybourne and Rayna Jaymes wouldn't exist without Watty White, so I owed him everything. "What's up?"

A waitress came over and poured us coffee. Watty ordered eggs and bacon and I ordered just toast.

He looked at me intently. "I've got some news," he said. He took a deep breath. "When you and Deacon were at that showcase last week, there were a number of A&R guys there." I was holding my breath. "Edgehill Republic is an up and coming label, headed up by Dan Eagle, who was most recently with Sony Nashville. They'd like to sign you."

"What?" I was sure I'd misunderstood. "They want to sign us?"

Watty sat back, his eyes almost sad. " _You_ , Rayna. They want to sign _you_."

I felt a pit in the bottom of my stomach. "But Deacon and I are a duo, Watty. You know that. We're in this together. Not separately."

Watty shrugged. "I know you've been performing as a duo, but, Rayna, you know Deacon isn't always reliable. And he's developed a reputation…."

I frowned. "No. I'm not doing this without Deacon."

"He can still be your guitar player, Rayna. That won't be a problem."

"No, Watty. We're a duo. They can sign both of us."

He shook his head. "They're not going to do that. It's just you they want."

"Then we'll just wait. We'll sign with someone else."

Watty just looked at me. "No one's going to sign Deacon," he said quietly. "Not even with you. You're the one with the star power anyway. Don't let this pass you by, Rayna."

I started to get out of the booth. I couldn't believe Watty would even suggest that I do this without Deacon. But then he grabbed my wrist. I looked at him. "I can't do this without him," I said.

"Yes, you can. You're going to have a huge career, Rayna, but it's going to be as a solo artist. I've always known that. I told Deacon that back when y'all first got together." I was shocked at that. Deacon had never said anything to me about that. "He'll understand. And y'all can still write together. He can still back you up. You can even still do your duets. But you're the one they want. You're the one any label's going to want. But Edgehill's going to be the label to give you more creative freedom right now. I think you need to do this."

I sat back in the booth. The waitress came back with the coffee and food. I watched as she put everything down and left the check. Then I looked back at Watty. "This is going to devastate him, Watty," I said. "All of this was supposed to be the two of us. Together."

"It still is. It's just that the record deal is for you." He smiled understandingly. "Don't walk away from this, Rayna. That's my advice to you. Deacon will understand."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped. I had no idea how I was going to tell Deacon that we weren't going to do this together. That wasn't our plan, our dream. We'd just spent the last four years building ourselves up as a duo, pouring our hearts out to each other on stage with those great, intimate ballads we liked to write. I had no idea where this road was going to take us. I wasn't as sure as Watty that he was going to understand.

I was pretty sure nothing would ever be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

I sat there, not really listening to Watty. I had this pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I tried to eat a bite of toast but could hardly get it down. All I could think was that this was not what I had expected. Yes, I had started out thinking I was going to be on my own, but the minute I started working with Deacon, I knew it was going to be the two of us. I loved the way we sounded together and I loved standing on stage with him. Whenever we sang, it felt like it was just the two of us on the stage. I could look into his eyes and it was as though the rest of the world faded away.

Watty was still talking, about signing exclusively and five album deals and twelve percent royalties and tour support, but all I could think was, what am I going to tell Deacon? I knew Bucky, our manager, would figure out all the contract stuff before I had to make any decisions. But it was supposed to be Deacon and me. I didn't want him to stand _behind_ me, I wanted him _beside_ me. I didn't want him not to be an equal part of this.

"Rayna?" I looked at Watty and realized he was asking me something. "Did you hear all that?"

I shrugged and looked away. "I don't know." I looked back at him and fidgeted with my fingers on the table top. "I don't understand why we can't shop us to the other labels. Maybe one of them will want us both."

Watty shook his head. "Actually, there were plenty of labels that were interested. But just in you. I know you feel comfortable with Deacon and he's a great guitar player. And y'all write beautiful songs together. But when the two of you are on the stage, he just fades into the background next to you." I frowned at him. "I know you don't want to hear that, but you're the one that's going to be a star, Rayna. And Edgehill gives you the best deal and the most freedom to do what you want. And they'll let you use Deacon as your guitar player. The other labels won't. This will be good for both of you."

I sat for a minute, letting that sink in. Then I grabbed my purse. "When do I have to decide?" I asked.

"Soon. Now. No more than forty-eight hours."

I slid out of the booth and stood there, breathing hard. "Then I'll give you my answer in forty-eight hours." And I turned on my heel and walked out the door. I got in the truck and put the key in the ignition. Then I sat there and burst into tears.

* * *

When I finally stopped crying, I knew I couldn't go straight home. I had no idea what to say to Deacon. I was afraid it would be the end of us, if I took this deal. I was afraid he wouldn't understand. It didn't take much to make him mad and then he'd just go off and get drunk and I didn't want that. I decided I needed to go think about what to say, so I started the truck and headed for the park along the river.

When I got there, I got out and walked to a shady spot not too far from the water. It was a warm day, not too hot. I sat on the rock wall and just looked out over the river. I put my hands on the wall and stretched my legs out, looking down at my boots. They were the same boots I'd worn that night at the Bluebird, when I'd met Deacon.

 _It wasn't my first time at the Bluebird. I'd been there twice before, for open mic nights. I'd been all over town, singing anywhere I could. Sometimes Tandy would drive me, but most times I drove myself. Daddy had forbidden me to do this, but he was never home, so how would he know? We'd had many fights about my music. He told me that as long as I lived under his roof, I wasn't allowed to go out and play "that goddamn country bullshit", as he called it._

 _I worked hard at my music. I knew I wasn't the best guitar player, but I tried. I had met Watty White the second time I was at the Bluebird. He told me I had a lovely voice. But I needed better songs. Oh, and guitar lessons. I was devastated._

 _I knew who Watty was. Anyone who was trying to break into the music business knew who Watty was. He was a big deal in Nashville and to get any notice from him at all was huge. But it wasn't enough to just have a good voice. I knew, if I was able to make my dream come true, I could have a whole band behind me that included a guitar player. But I wanted to write songs. I wanted to be more than just an artist who sang other people's songs._

 _As I was packing up to leave that night, Watty came over to me. "Come back next week," he said. "I've got an idea." I nodded._

* * *

 _When I went back the next week, Watty was there. He walked over to me. "Hey there, Rayna," he said. "So I've asked someone to come give you a listen tonight. He's an outstanding guitar player and a very promising songwriter. He's had some success around town and I think he can help you."_

" _Okay," I said. I wasn't really sure how I felt about that, but it was Watty White, after all, so I figured I could at least see what it was all about. "Is he here now?"_

 _Watty shook his head. "Not yet. He will be, though."_

 _When it was my turn, the seat next to Watty was still empty. My heart sort of sank, but I got set up anyway. I turned to sit on the stool and noticed someone walk in the front door. He walked over to the bar as I started my number. When I started to sing, he turned to look at me and our eyes locked. I stumbled over the next line of lyrics, feeling my heart turn over._

 _He was a little scruffy, wearing very worn jeans and a t-shirt, his dark hair looking like he'd cut it himself. I could tell he was older than me, maybe even older than Tandy. He had bedroom eyes, I noticed right away, and they made my insides feel like quicksand. I think I fell in love with him right then._

 _I nearly passed out when I saw him walk over and sit next to Watty, after I finished my first song. Watty smiled at him and shook his hand. I had to breathe in deeply as I got ready to sing my next song. And that gorgeous man sat and watched me as I did, pulling a pen out of his pocket and scribbling on a napkin, hardly taking his eyes off me._

 _My set was just before the break and as I turned to pack up my guitar, I heard Watty's voice. "Rayna." I turned. There he was, as sexy a man as I'd ever seen. Maybe a little younger than I'd thought at first. His eyes seemed to grab and hold mine. "This is Deacon Claybourne," Watty was saying. "I thought he might be able to help you."_

 _I smiled shyly and so did Deacon. I put out my hand. "Hey, Deacon. I'm Rayna Wyatt." My voice sounded high pitched to my ears._

 _He took my hand and it felt like an electric bolt ran through me. "Hey, Rayna," he said, his voice like warm caramel. "That's the perfect name for a country singer."_

* * *

 _We walked across the street to the Green Hills Diner, to talk. The Bluebird has a strict policy on talking during performances and Watty wanted us to get to know each other, to see how things would work. It was still early enough that there was some late rush hour traffic on Hillsboro Pike. Deacon took my hand as we jogged across the road. I was pretty sure I was going to faint from it, but I managed not to._

 _We sat at a table by the window and a waitress was there before we even said a word. "What can I get you, hon?" she said, looking at me._

 _I was nervous, sitting there across from Deacon. He smiled and his eyes crinkled up. I swallowed hard. "Just a Coke, please," I said._

 _She turned and looked at Deacon. "Um, a whiskey on the rocks?" he asked._

 _She looked him over. "Got an ID, sugar?"_

 _He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and showed her his license. She peered at it and nodded, then hurried off. Okay, so he_ _was_ _older. At least twenty-one. But with his clean shaven face, he looked awfully young._

 _He looked at me then. "You could have had something stronger."_

 _I shook my head. "I'm not old enough."_

 _He looked around, then leaned towards me. "Neither am I," he whispered._

 _I was surprised, yet again. "But you had ID," I said._

 _He smirked. "Fake. I'm just nineteen."_

 _I nodded. "Oh, okay. I get it."_

" _How old are you?"_

 _I took a deep breath. "Sixteen." Just barely._

" _Whoa." He sat back. "Watty didn't tell me that."_

 _My heart sank. I wish I'd said I was older. "Is that a problem?" I asked._

 _He shook his head. "No, no, not at all." He smiled. "We're good, Rayna Wyatt." The waitress came back with our drinks and Deacon ordered us some nachos. Then he looked back at me. "So you want to learn to write songs," he said._

 _I frowned. "I know how to write songs. I just need some tips, I guess." The way he looked at me made me feel all warm inside and I squirmed a little._

" _You write those songs tonight?" he asked, knowing I had. It was the rule at the Bluebird._

 _I nodded. "What's wrong with my songs?"_

 _He shrugged. "It's not that there's anything wrong with them. But there's no hook. Nothing that seems like it's something you lived."_

 _I frowned. "I don't know what you mean."_

" _You wrote a love song. You ever been in love?" I shook my head. "Then don't write about love. Write about what you know."_

 _What did I know about? Not having a mom? Having a daddy who was always angry with me? Feeling all alone? Those didn't sound like things that would make for a good country song. "Why can't I just write about what I'm wishing for?" He was starting to piss me off a little. I didn't even know if_ _he_ _could write a good song and here he was telling me what to do._

" _You can. But you gotta write your truth, not someone else's. Don't write what you think people want to hear, write what you wanna say."_

 _I took a deep breath. I wasn't sure how I felt about someone criticizing my songs, especially someone who wasn't a whole lot older than me. Even if he was as handsome as Deacon Claybourne and even if I hadn't already pretty much fallen in love with him. I looked at him and felt that chemical charge run through me again._

 _He was watching me, a hint of a smile on his face. He reached out and tapped a finger on the table. "Watty said you could use some guitar lessons. We can start with that," he said._

 _I smiled a little. "I'd like that," I said._

* * *

The sound of a couple of buskers nearby roused me from my musing. I looked over to where they were. A guy and a girl, about the same age as Deacon and me, it looked like. I smiled as I listened. They harmonized with each other beautifully, the way I felt like Deacon and I did. I sighed. It had been almost four years since I'd met Deacon and we'd started working together. It had very quickly become more than that. I liked what we'd built together. Even if we were still barely getting by, we were doing what we loved, writing love songs to each other in front of paying audiences. We were gaining some traction and creating some buzz.

I frowned then. I had to wonder about what Watty had said, that it was _me_ they came to see. It had always been my dream, to be a successful country artist, like Reba McEntire and Patty Loveless and Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette. But meeting Deacon had changed that. I didn't want to do any of it without him. Deacon and the music and the love were all so tangled up that there was no separating them. At least that's how I saw it.

I bent one leg and tapped the toe of my boot on the walkway. But now I had to think about it differently. Watty had just told me that my dream could come true. I couldn't just walk away from that without at least considering it. But what was I going to say to Deacon?


	3. Chapter 3

Loving Deacon Claybourne was both the easiest and the hardest thing I ever did. It was the easiest because he was like a puzzle piece that fit all my edges perfectly. That whole "two parts of a whole" thing – I always believed in it, but Tandy said it was hooey – all of it was true for Deacon and me. We fit, from that very first meeting. The connection was surprising, in a way, how quickly and completely it happened. But Deacon was a complicated man, with demons that haunted him always. I sometimes wondered if we could possibly survive that.

* * *

Deacon and I were passionate about everything, but mostly our music and each other. As I sat looking out at the gently moving Cumberland, I thought we were like that, moving together steadily towards a common end. I loved him as much four years after we'd met as I had the first time I laid eyes on him. Actually, more. Tandy pooh-poohed it as puppy love, when I first told her. I was only sixteen, she said. What did I know about love? It would be over after our first fight.

But it wasn't. We grew together so quickly. I had been surprised to find out he had the same feelings for me that I had for him. We'd come from such different places and yet none of that mattered. And yeah, we were young, both of us, but we knew. We just _knew_. We'd grow old together, singing on our porch to our kids and grandkids. At least that's what we'd always planned.

I thought about what Watty said. _I know you don't want to hear that, but you're the one that's going to be a star._ I took a deep breath and leaned back, closing my eyes, turning my face towards the sun. He was right. I didn't want to hear it. Except, I kinda did. It was all I'd ever wanted, lying on my bed in my over-decorated bedroom in Daddy's house in Belle Meade. I daydreamed about standing on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, and someone – in my dreams it was always John Conlee – inviting me to be a member. But I was always standing on that stage alone.

That was before I met Deacon Claybourne though. That was before I fell in love with him and before we became part of each other's lives. It was before I couldn't imagine being on a stage without him standing so close to me I could feel his breath on my face. I felt a tear slide down my cheek and I brushed it away. I needed to get home. Deacon would be wondering where I was. But I wasn't sure I was ready yet.

* * *

" _You okay, hon?" the waitress asked me, when she came back and set down the plate of nachos._

 _I looked at her. No, I'm not okay, I thought. I can scarcely breathe, I'm afraid to look at this guy across the table from me for too long or I might die of it. I'd never felt like this before, tingly all over, my heart racing. But I knew that wasn't what she was asking. I looked at my glass. I'd hardly made a dent in my Coke. I nodded. "I'm good."_

 _She turned to look at Deacon and he raised up his empty glass and wiggled it just a little. "One more," he said. She took off and he set the glass down. He pointed at the plate of nachos. "Eat up. They're really good here."_

 _I smiled at him and then looked down at the food. I really couldn't look at him for too long or I was afraid I'd just blurt out that I loved him, or something. I didn't really feel like eating, but I took the fork that was laying at my place and put some of the nachos on the small plate the waitress had left. They did smell good. We never had food like this at home, so it was kind of a treat._

 _He waited for me and then he filled his own small plate. He grinned. "You might wanna take more or I'll eat it all," he said._

 _I made a face. "It's okay," I said._

 _He concentrated on eating. I had my head down as I slowly ate, but watched him through my lowered eyelashes. Those bedroom eyes of his were the bluest blue I'd ever seen. He had the faintest five o'clock shadow and I found myself thinking he'd look even more handsome if he had just a little bit of scruff on his face. And then I wondered what it would feel like against my cheek. His hands were large, his arms firm and muscular. I thought about what it might feel like to have those arms around me, those hands touching me. He was slender but not thin, his clothes fitting his body well, even though they were clearly worn and old. I felt my face get hot and I was sure I was probably blushing._

 _I squirmed again in my seat and he stopped eating and looked up. He sat back and let his eyes run over me, not in a creepy way, but like he was just trying to memorize me. "So, Rayna," he said. "How long you been doing this? Singing?"_

 _I put the chip down on my plate and sat back myself. "Not long," I said. "Well, I mean, I've been singing and stuff for a long time. I used to sing with my mama all the time, before she died. But singing places like the Bluebird, just a couple months." I smiled at him. "It's my dream."_

 _He looked at me seriously. "It's a lot of hard work, you know," he said. "Lotta disappointment. Most people don't make it."_

 _I frowned at him. "So are you telling me I'm wasting my time?"_

 _He raised his eyebrows a little and then shook his head. "No. Just telling you the truth. It was the same thing I heard when I came here." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table in front of him. "I think you have a real pretty singing voice, Rayna. You got something special. It still might not be enough, but, you know, maybe it could." He gave me a tiny smile._

 _I realized that maybe he was sharing some of his own struggle with me and I felt bad for being annoyed with him. "How long have you been doing this, Deacon?" I asked._

 _He sighed. "Feels like forever. I came to Nashville when I was sixteen. Like you. At first I came with my sister. We were gonna take this town by storm. We'd been a duo back home and people thought we were good, so we gave it a try."_

" _Do you still sing with her?"_

 _He shook his head. "She got homesick or lovesick or something and she went back home." He shrugged and smiled crookedly. "A guy. She didn't want to wait to see if we'd make it when she had a guy back home."_

 _I smiled back at him. "So you're on your own now?"_

 _He nodded. "Yeah." He looked out the window._

 _I sensed there was a lot under the surface with Deacon Claybourne. I wondered why he'd stayed here in Nashville when his sister left. If he was nineteen, then that meant he'd been here three years and he still hadn't "made it". That made me stop and think about my own chances. I knew it wasn't necessarily an easy road, but I wondered how I would feel if I'd been doing this for three years and hadn't gotten any further than singing at open mics. "So, do you play around town a lot?" I asked. I really wondered what his story was._

 _He looked back at me. "I do. Here and there." He smirked. "Enough to pay the bills, at least." He looked over towards the register area. "In fact, I gotta head out. I'm doing a set at the Station Inn."_

 _I nodded. "Okay." I opened my purse to get some money._

 _He waved his hand. "I can pay," he said, and he pulled a twenty out of his wallet. We got up from the table and walked towards the front of the diner. He settled up with the waitress and then we walked out. It was dark out now. We headed back across the street. Deacon took my hand again as we crossed, as though he were keeping me safe. I really did like the feel of my hand in his. His fingers were calloused, from the guitar strings, I guessed, but I liked how it felt. His hand seemed to envelop mine with its warmth._

 _When we got back to the Bluebird parking lot, he dropped my hand, but followed me as I headed for my car. As I took my keys out, I heard his low whistle. My stomach dropped. I sort of hated that car at times like this. It was five years old, but it was still a Lexus. Daddy had bought it for Tandy when she turned sixteen and I had inherited it this year. But it marked me as a Belle Meade debutante type, just the thing I hated._

 _I turned back to look at Deacon and he had a little crease between his eyebrows and his eyes looked a little hurt. "Don't look like you really need to do this, Rayna Wyatt," he said, his words a little clipped._

 _I frowned back at him. "Don't judge me," I said, a little angrily. "You don't even know me, so you can't judge me. I want this the same as you." I breathed out. "You said you'd give me a guitar lesson. Does the offer still stand?"_

 _He looked at me for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah." He sighed and his face relaxed. "You got something to write my number on?"_

 _I nodded and reached into my purse. I found a little address book and a pen and I handed them to him. He took them and opened up the book, writing something down. When he handed it back, I smiled hesitantly at him, slipping the book back into my purse. "I go to school still, so it would have to be in the afternoon. Is that okay?"_

 _He shrugged. "Sure." He reached his hand out. After a moment, I slipped mine into his. "Nice to meet you, Rayna. I'll wait to hear from you."_

 _I nodded. "Okay." I smiled. "It was nice to meet you too, Deacon."_

 _He turned and walked away. I stood and watched him, until he reached an old pickup truck. Then I made my way to the driver's side of my car and unlocked the door. I got in and pulled the address book out of my purse. I had to smile. He'd put his name on the C page. Even though he made my heart turn flip flops, I would call him. What could it hurt to have a few guitar lessons?_

* * *

 _Turned out it took me a week to call him. I was so nervous. Every time I thought about calling him, my mouth went dry and I felt sick to my stomach. I'm sure he thought I was just a little rich girl playing at being a singer and I wanted him to know I was serious about this. But I was also a little scared of being with him again. Where would we do these lessons? Where he lived? Eek! That might not be a good idea._

 _I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the phone on the bedside table. My stomach was in knots. This was the seventh day in a row that I'd done this and every day before I'd chickened out. I'd even picked up the receiver and held it in my hand more than once, before putting it down. I hadn't ventured out to any open mics either, afraid I would run into him._

 _I'd never really had a crush on a boy before, not like this anyway. Although there had been that football player at school earlier in the year. He was so cute, all blonde and hazel eyes. He had that football player physique, all big and muscular. He seemed nice and he was really popular. His name was Harrison. Harrison Wentz. He was a senior and all the girls were hot for him, it seemed. He was in my algebra class and he sat right in front of me, because the teacher made us sit in alphabetical order. So we would talk and he would make me laugh and I just thought he was the perfect boy._

 _But then I found out that he called me a "hillbilly lover", one of the many unflattering things kids at school said about my love of country music. And I couldn't keep my mouth shut about it and so the next day in class, when he sat down, I said, "Just because I like country music doesn't mean there's something wrong with me. You should try listening to it, really listening to it, and maybe you'd change your mind."_

 _He looked at me for a minute, then he rolled his eyes and smirked. "You are a weirdo, Rayna Wyatt. Just like everybody says."_

 _I went home and cried that afternoon, but all it really had done was strengthen my resolve. I was going to be a country music star and no one was going to stop me. And I sure wasn't going to let a bunch of stupid rich kids ruin my dream. That was when I had started combing the papers for open mic nights and going to as many as I could. Now, it seemed, maybe I was a little bit at a crossroads, and maybe Deacon Claybourne could help me. I just needed to get over this ridiculous crush and call him._

 _I took a deep breath and made myself dial his number, one I now knew by heart. I almost hung up when he answered, but I cleared my throat and said, "Hey, Deacon, this is Rayna Wyatt."_


	4. Chapter 4

I got up from the stone wall and started walking. Eventually I came upon the stone picnic table a little farther down the path where Deacon and I had first started those guitar lessons. I stood and looked at it, picturing him sitting on one side, facing towards me. I sat on the other, doing the same. I walked over and stepped up on the bench, turning to sit on the table top. I smiled to myself. I really was a very bad guitar player. I don't know why I could never really get the hang of it, but I couldn't. I could pick out some chords, but I always sounded like a beginner. And a very bad one, at that.

I had taken years of piano lessons and that was more my forte. It was kind of funny, actually. Deacon tried for the longest time to teach me to play guitar and I never got a whole lot better than I had been in the beginning. One day, though, about a year ago, we splurged on a really cheap music school piano. Deacon wanted me to teach him to play, and damn if he didn't pick it up in about a week. He was definitely a musician, that was clear.

One of my dreams was for him to teach our children to play music. I could picture it in my head, him patiently showing our daughter – I always thought of us as having a daughter first – how to play. Suddenly I felt my emotions wash over me and I got a lump in my throat and tears pricked my eyes. I wondered if this recording contract would tear us apart. Maybe I should just forget about the whole thing.

* * *

" _Rayna Wyatt. Well, well. I'd pretty much given up on you," Deacon said when I called, a hint of a smile in his voice._

 _I crossed, then uncrossed my legs. And crossed them back. "Well, you know, I had a lot of schoolwork this week, so…."_

" _So you want that guitar lesson?" he asked._

" _Yeah. If the offer is still good."_

" _Sure." He paused. "When?"_

 _I shrugged. "Anytime."_

" _Tomorrow?"_

" _Sure. After school though."_

" _Right. Where you wanna meet?"_

" _Um, I don't know."_

 _He didn't say anything for a minute. "Can you drive somewhere?"_

" _Yeah, I guess."_

" _Well, there's a park over near here. Shelby Park. By the river. It's a good quiet place. If it's not too far."_

 _I wasn't exactly sure where that was, but I could look it up on a map. It was far enough away from here, I knew, that no one would see me that I knew. "I can do that. Four?"_

" _I'll see you at four then, Rayna Wyatt."_

 _I hung up the phone, then danced around my bedroom. I was ridiculously excited about seeing him again. And wondering why I had waited so long._

 _####_

 _That first lesson was almost the last. But it started out okay. I found my way to Shelby Park and was only a few minutes late. Deacon was nice enough not to say anything though and I followed him to a shady area with a picnic table._

" _This okay with you?" he asked. I nodded. He set his guitar case on one of the bench seats and opened it, pulling out a guitar that looked like it was better than mine, but still well-used. I was almost embarrassed to pull mine out of the case, although I remembered he'd already seen it. He hopped up on the table top and rested the guitar on his legs. He nodded towards the other end of the table. "You can sit there, across from me, so you can see what I'm doing," he said._

 _I stepped up carefully, wishing I hadn't worn a skirt to school that day, trying to make sure that I didn't flash him a peek at my panties. When I sat down and looked at him, he had a teasing grin on his face. I felt my face get hot and I looked down at my guitar, lying flat on my lap. "So what are we gonna do?" I asked, feeling a little breathless._

 _There was the hint of laughter in his voice. "Well, you gotta look at me first, Rayna," he said. "So you can see what my hands are doing."_

 _I sighed deeply and looked up at him. He had a little smile on his face and his eyes were warm and friendly as he looked at me. I tried to smile back, but I was nervous. He still made me feel all tingly inside. I set my guitar on my legs and wrapped one hand under and around the neck and draped the other one over the body, like he was. I laid my fingers on the frets. "Okay, I'm ready," I said._

 _He positioned his fingers on the frets of his guitar and then ran his thumb over the strings. I felt this little curl of desire unwind inside me at the beautiful sound. "Try that," he said._

 _I stared hard at where his fingers lay on the frets and then looked at my own hand, trying to imitate him. But when I ran my thumb over the strings, it didn't sound anything like that. I made a frustrated noise. "I can't do that," I said._

" _Sure you can," he said. "That's one of the easier chords. Maybe you're pressing down too hard with your fingers."_

 _I glared at him. "I'm not pressing down too hard," I said._

 _He took a deep breath. "Let's try a different one then," he said finally. He moved his fingers and again, ran his thumb over the strings. God, he was magic on that guitar. Even just hearing him play those two chords, I could tell he was amazing._

 _I looked at his fingers, then positioned mine. I looked again, just to be sure, then ran my thumb over my strings. Ugh. "Damn!" I said. "Something's not right." I looked up at him and he was smiling just a little. Laughing at me inside, I was sure. I scowled. "You're a terrible teacher, you know that?"_

 _The smile was gone and he frowned, that crease forming between his eyes. I could see his jaw clench. "Maybe you're not such a hot student, you ever think about that?" he asked, irritation in his voice. "I guess when you're a little rich girl, playing at being a country singer, you don't have to work that hard at this." He shrugged. "No wonder Watty thought you needed help."_

 _I couldn't believe I'd had a crush on this, well, this horrible_ _boy_ _. That's all he was – a stupid_ _boy_ _. I awkwardly got off the table with my guitar and then stood there and glared at him. "I don't know why I thought you could help me. If all you're gonna do is insult me, just like everybody else, then I don't need you." I stomped my foot. When I thought about it later, I couldn't believe I'd done that, just like a petulant child. "I am not just a little rich girl playing at this. I am serious about my music, Deacon Claybourne. Just as serious as you are. It doesn't matter where I come from._ _This_ _matters to me._ _This_ _is my life._ _This_ _is my dream! But I can do this without you!"_

 _I put my guitar back in the case and stomped off to my car. I was so mad that I couldn't get the key in the ignition at first and I screamed out in frustration. Finally I got the car started and hit the gas to get out of there as fast as I could. I stole a look at that picnic table, though, as I sped out. Deacon was still sitting there, still holding his guitar, his head bowed._

 _I don't know why, but when I looked at him, I wanted to cry._

* * *

I walked slowly up the steps to the apartment. I felt sick to my stomach. I stood at the door to the apartment and sighed, then inserted my key in the lock. When I opened the door, I heard guitar music that abruptly stopped. Deacon appeared in the bedroom doorway. He had on jeans and no shirt, his hair still rumpled from sleep. He had a lazy smile on his face. I could feel the heat in my core as I looked at him. _I love him too much to lie to him._

He raised his eyebrows. "Hey, baby, where you been all this time?" It was late afternoon and I'd been gone since before lunchtime.

I shrugged. "Thinking."

He walked over and put an arm around my waist, pulling me close, then kissing me. "Thinking about what?" he murmured in my ear.

I smiled at him. "You." It was the truth.

He ran his hand down over my ass and pressed against me. "That's my girl," he growled.

I let him kiss my neck, but then I knew I needed to get this news out first. I turned out of his embrace and walked over to the couch, threadbare and tacky looking. _If I sign that contract maybe we can have better things._ "Not that," I said as I sat on the edge. I patted the cushion next to me. "Come sit."

He frowned, but did so. "What's up?" he asked warily.

"I need to talk to you about something," I said, folding my hands in my lap. "The reason Watty wanted to see me." I looked at him. God, he was so gorgeous. _Please don't let him get mad._ "So, you know, when we were at that showcase?"

"Yeah."

"Apparently some labels were there, looking for talent." I bit down on my lip.

He raised his eyebrows. "Someone want to sign us?" he asked.

My heart sank. "Me," I said softly. "They want to sign _me_." He looked puzzled for a moment, then frowned darkly. I reached for his hand. "But you still can play guitar with me and back me up."

He snatched his hand away and got up. He paced for a moment, then stood, with one hand on his hip, the other on the back of neck, and scowled at me. "Did you remind Watty we're a goddamn duo?" he shouted.

I stood up and crossed over to him. "Of course I did," I said, laying a hand on his arm.

He pulled away and stormed into the kitchen. After a moment I followed him. He was pouring whiskey into a glass, downing it in one long swallow. I leaned back against the counter. I tried to remember the things Watty had told me. "Five albums. Tour support. I can choose my band. It's a good deal," I started.

He slammed the glass down, so hard it made me jump. He poured another glass of whiskey. "For you, maybe. But what about me?" He drained the glass, then threw it in the sink. I winced as I heard the glass break. "I thought we were in this together, Ray," he said, his jaw clenched. "But the first label that calls, you go running, is that it?"

I frowned at him. "No, that's not it at all. I had no idea that's what Watty wanted to talk to me about. It was a complete surprise to me." I put my hands on my hips. "But it could be good for both of us, Deacon. If I sign. We can still be together on stage. In the studio. That doesn't change."

He slammed his hand on the counter. "But it's just Rayna Jaymes on the ticket, right? Just Rayna Jaymes on the album cover. It's _your_ career, Ray, not mine!"

I felt a mix of fear and anger. I grabbed his arm with both hands. "Deacon, you can still play guitar with me, still sing with me." I knew I was pleading, but I didn't care.

He shook me off and stormed back into the bedroom. I followed behind him. He went to the dresser and jerked open a drawer, pulling out a t-shirt and slipping it over his head. I put my hand on his back but he whipped around, his face like a thundercloud. "It was supposed to be you and me, Ray," he said angrily, waving two fingers back and forth between the two of us. "That's not what this is gonna be. It'll be you, the star, and me, just somebody that works for you. Your _back up_ , isn't that what you said? That's not what I signed on for." He pushed past me and headed out to the living room, grabbing his wallet and keys off the dresser as he did.

I scrambled after him, trying to take his arm and get him to stop. "That's not true!" I cried. "Please, Deacon, let's talk about it. It wouldn't be that way at all. I promise!" He pulled his arm from my grasp and headed for the door. I followed after him as he ran down the stairs out to the parking lot. He jumped in the truck and started it up, as I ran towards him. "Please, Deacon, don't do this!" I cried out. But he peeled out of the parking lot, leaving me standing there in tears.


	5. Chapter 5

At first I just stood there, my arms wrapped around my waist, tears rolling down my face. If I could have gone after him, I would have. But Daddy had taken back my Lexus, back after he'd found out I'd moved in with Deacon, and Deacon and I didn't have the money to buy me another one. Not even a decent used car. This wasn't the first time Deacon had left me somewhere, with no ride. So then I got mad.

"Damn you, Deacon Claybourne!" I shouted to the parking lot. Someone walking out to his car turned to look at me and shook his head. How many fights had Deacon and I had in this parking lot? How many times had one or the other of us driven off in that damn truck? Usually when one or both of us had been drinking and after another stupid fight over something ridiculous and forgettable. I couldn't believe sometimes how many fights we got into. But no matter how mad we got, we always ended up in each other's arms, all wrapped up in each other. It was just our way.

I stomped back up to the apartment. Deacon would probably go to one of several bars we frequented. He'd get drunk, maybe even pretty wasted. Eventually he'd come home and he'd kiss my neck and touch me in all those places he knew would make me crazy and tell me he was sorry and that he loved me, only me. _You and me, Ray, that's the way it's s'posed to be._ And then he'd make love to me and I'd forgive him. Or I'd forgive him and he'd make love to me. It didn't really matter. Because he was all I had, all I wanted, all I needed.

* * *

" _I pretty much thought I'd never hear from you again." Deacon looked at me as I approached, his hand shading his eyes._

 _I shrugged. "Well, I'm still not a very good guitar player, and Watty convinced me to give it another shot. Give_ _you_ _another shot." I tried to smile. "Thank you for not saying no."_

" _I always like a challenge." His voice was slow and sweet and still made my insides feel like mush. I wish he hadn't been so damn good looking. I wish I wasn't so weak. I wish I didn't still think I was in love with him. He nodded towards the other side of the picnic table, where I'd sat the last time. "Let's get started then," he said._

 _We tried the same two chords again and I still struggled with them. I tried not to get mad, but it was frustrating. "I don't understand why it's so hard," I whined._

 _Deacon took a deep breath, probably glad I didn't lash out at him again. "Let's try something else," he said. He hopped off the table and propped his guitar against the bench. Then he came around behind me. I held my breath as he positioned himself, reaching under my arm to lay his fingers on mine on the neck of the guitar. He got my fingers in place under his. "Lighten up, Rayna," he said, his voice right in my ear. I felt an electric tingle all the way down my side. "You_ _are_ _pressing too tight."_

 _I tried to lift up from the strings a bit. I couldn't believe my hand wasn't shaking. The feel of his calloused fingers on top of mine sent me over the moon. It was official. I was still in love. I took a deep breath and I ran my thumb over the strings. I gasped. "Oh my God, Deacon!" I cried, turning my head back to look at him. "That was so much better."_

 _He stepped back and walked back to where he'd been sitting before. He picked up his guitar and sat, smiling at me. "See, you can do it," he said. "Just takes a lighter touch."_

 _I smiled at him, feeling more relaxed now. "I still think I'm going to need a lot more lessons," I said._

 _He winked at me. "Anytime, Rayna Wyatt. Anytime."_

* * *

I cleaned up the glass in the sink. And then I straightened up the apartment. We didn't have much, couldn't afford much. Most of what we had we found at flea markets or yard sales. Whatever we could carry home in the back of Deacon's truck. My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten much of that toast I'd ordered when I met Watty. I opened the refrigerator. There wasn't much. Bread and a little cheap deli meat, so I made a sandwich. When Deacon and I had a gig, the place where we played would usually feed us. That was part of our pay, along with any tips we got from patrons. We usually ate a lot of that boxed macaroni and cheese but there was no milk. And I just couldn't eat another can of Spaghetti-o's.

When Deacon brought me here, all those years ago after Daddy kicked me out, he was sure I'd be gone in a day or two. This sure wasn't Belle Meade and the whole apartment wasn't much bigger than my bedroom in that monstrosity of a house on Lynwood Blvd. He had called me a little rich girl playing at being a singer, but he had apologized for that. He'd felt bad, though, that he couldn't bring me to a place he felt I deserved. But I loved it here. Because he was here. That was all that mattered.

* * *

 _Unfortunately, I never got significantly better on the guitar, no matter what Deacon tried to do. One afternoon, a few weeks later, he just sighed. "I guess I'm just gonna have to do your guitar playing for you," he said._

 _My heart fluttered. "You would do that? But what about your gigs?"_

 _He shrugged. "When I don't have something, I'll play guitar for you. How about that?"_

 _And that was how Deacon and I officially started to work together. Watty still wanted me to let Deacon listen to some of my songs and help me with that, but that was where I drew the line. They were my songs and I didn't need someone changing them around. These were_ _my_ _feelings, not Deacon Claybourne's or anyone else's._

 _I had found myself working on a song that was actually about Deacon. Even though we were spending more time together, and he was playing guitar for me when he was available, it still felt like he didn't see me as anything other than just a girl Watty White introduced him to. He didn't like talking about himself and so I didn't really know much about him, except that he'd grown up in Mississippi, and he had an older sister._

 _He was a kind person though. Quiet, but genuine. I loved to see him smile. It made his eyes crinkle just a little around the edges. He had a little bit of a shy look about him and sometimes he'd lightly bite his lip when he was a little embarrassed or flustered. Which just made me love him more. I had been lying on my bed one night, thinking about how I wished he'd just notice me, when the words popped into my head._

Maybe you like me, or do you like me not? / May be wishful thinking, but wishin's all I've got / Time to hit the pavement, on the road again / Have you ever dreamed of being more than friends?

 _I got a little shiver when I wrote them down. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. He'd never given me any indication that he thought I was anything other than just a girl he was helping out. Maybe that was it. I was just a girl. Sixteen. He had seemed a little surprised when I'd told him that, and maybe a little disappointed._

If I'm a wildflower / Then you're the blowin' breeze / I could get swept away / Don't know where you'd take me / And maybe we could shine / So bright in the sunlight / Is it real? Do you see? / Say you notice me

You're shooting for the stars, I'm over the moon / Life takes us in circles, and we're always on the move / There's so much to say here, so much more to do / I don't even really know if it's about me and you

 _I decided I would try it out at the next open mic. Deacon had a long set and wasn't going to be able to be there, so it was a good time to try it. Because I could never sing that if he was around. Just then there was a knock on my door and it opened, revealing my sister Tandy's face. "Tandy!" I cried out, scrambling off my bed, my song notebook forgotten. I ran over and hugged her. Now that she was in college, she'd moved out of the house and I really missed her._

 _She hugged me tight. "Hey, sweetie," she said. "How you doing?"_

 _We walked over and sat on my bed. "I'm good. Still doing open mics whenever I can."_

 _She squeezed my hand. "I hope it all works out for you someday, sweetheart. I really do." I never could tell for sure if she thought this was a foolish dream or not, but she never told me I was crazy to do this, like Daddy did, and I really appreciated it. Before I knew it, she'd picked up my notebook and started to read._

 _I snatched it away from her. "Don't read that!" I cried out._

 _She smiled. "Too late." She winked. "Looks like you've got a crush on someone," she teased._

 _I frowned. "Shut up."_

 _She grabbed my hand. "Who is it? Tell me."_

 _I took a deep breath. She was my sister after all, so I guess it didn't hurt. I smiled, feeling a little embarrassed. "His name is Deacon. He's been trying to teach me to play guitar. And he plays guitar for me sometimes when I'm on stage. If he's available." I closed my eyes and swooned. "He's so gorgeous, Tandy. He has the bluest eyes I've ever seen and the prettiest smile."_

" _Where'd you meet him?"_

 _I looked at her. "At the Bluebird. Watty White introduced me to him."_

 _She screwed up her face. "How old is he?"_

" _Nineteen."_

" _Oh, honey, are you sure about this? He's a lot older than you."_

 _I frowned. "Three years, Tandy. That's not a lot."_

" _It's a lot at your age." She squeezed my hands and looked at me with concern on her face. "I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."_

 _I pulled my hands away. "He's a nice guy, Tandy. He's not going to hurt me."_

* * *

It was late. Almost ten and Deacon still wasn't home. I'd alternated between crying and stomping around the apartment. I worried about him. He drank more now than he used to. Sometimes a lot. He never seemed out of control, really, but there were times he was too hungover to make a rehearsal or he was so drunk he missed a riff or a bridge during a show. He hadn't missed a performance, but there were times when I wasn't sure he'd be able to stand up straight on stage, much less be able to hold and play his guitar. But we managed. I looked out for him. I just hoped he made it home okay.

I still didn't know what I was going to do about that damn contract. I found myself wishing Watty had never told me about it. I loved being a duo with Deacon. But, honestly, my dream had always been to be a top female country artist. I had adjusted my dreams, sure, when Deacon came along and we had clicked so completely. I had been fine with living day-to-day, traveling most of the time to the next gig. Because it was the two of us. We had accepted that this was going to be our life and we were happy with it. We had each other, we had our music. What else did we need?

But a record deal. A five album record deal. This could be the ticket. I knew it wasn't a guarantee. Nothing was. I'd still have to put together a killer album. I'd have to find the perfect single. Then I'd have to promote the hell out of it on country radio and anywhere else the label wanted me to. But I'd have a shot. And right now, Deacon Claybourne and Rayna Jaymes, together, didn't have that shot.

* * *

 _"Will you play me something? Something you wrote?" He was trying, yet again, to teach me chords._

 _He nodded. He sat for a moment, thinking, and then he set his fingers on the frets and started to play._

Leave me lonely, leave me alone / I got somebody special waitin' back home / She saves her love for me, I save my love for her

You're awful pretty, so pretty, girl / I'd love to talk to you but I don't wanna / Lead you on to somewhere, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go

So please understand / I'm doing the best I can / To be faithful and true / And it matters to me and her / The matter is one man faithful and true / To me, to her, and to you

 _I watched him as he played. He mostly kept his eyes closed and I could see that he was really into the music and the words. It struck me that this was what he'd told me that night I'd met him, that you had to sing your truth. And this was surely his. I swallowed over a lump in my throat. So he had a girl back home. Even though I hadn't known him long, I felt disappointed. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest._

 _When he finished he looked at me. "That was beautiful," I said, with a sad smile. And it was. Watty was right, he was a really good songwriter. One who'd just broken my heart._

* * *

I woke up from my restless slumber when I heard the key in the lock. I heard the door open and close, then a hard thump. Then a low pitched "Fuck!" Deacon was back. I wondered what kind of shape he was in. When I peered at the clock next to the bed, it was just past midnight. I took a deep breath and turned on my side, my back to the door.

I could hear him walk into the bedroom. After a moment, I felt his weight on the edge of the bed. It ebbed and flowed as he took off his boots, tossing them on the floor. Then he pushed up and I knew he was probably undressing. I held my breath. I felt him crawl in the bed, roll over, and press himself against my back, his arm encircling my waist. I could smell the whiskey rolling off of him and I could feel him hard against my ass.

"I'm sorry, baby. I really am," he whispered against my ear, slurring his words, pressing himself more insistently against me. "I love you, Ray."

He was drunk. No, more like wasted. We'd have to talk about all this tomorrow, not tonight. I wanted to hold on to my anger, but my body betrayed me. I turned to face him. He had a silly smile on his face and he slid his hand over my breast. I breathed in sharply at his touch. I laid my hand on his hip. "I was worried about you, babe," I murmured.

He rolled me onto my back and kissed me. Even though I hated the stale taste of whiskey on his breath, I couldn't resist him and kissed him back. He slid his mouth over to my cheek. "I'm here now, baby. It's all gonna be good. You're gonna be a star, Ray. We'll do it together," he whispered into my ear, his voice thick with the liquor. And then he proceeded to make me his, in that way he had that never failed to excite me. The last coherent thought I had before I lost myself in him was that I wondered if he'd say the same thing in the morning.

 _ **The two songs in this chapter are "Notice Me", which comes from a book called**_ _ **Wildflower**_ _ **, and "Leave Me Lonely" by Gary Morris.**_


	6. Chapter 6

I hardly slept at all. When the sun started to lighten up behind the blinds, I woke up yet again. I looked back over my shoulder. Deacon was lying on his back, dead to the world, lightly snoring. He was barely covered with the sheet, mainly because I always took the covers for myself. I turned back and looked at the wall. Tears filled my eyes. I really didn't know whether he'd remember what he said to me last night. Sometimes all it took for him was just to brood over whatever was bothering him, and then he'd work it out in his head and be fine. Sometimes it just made him angrier. But he was the type that kept a lot inside, didn't always share.

Even now, nearly four years in, I knew little about his family and his life growing up. He kept that part of his life mostly private. He knew a lot more about my life than I knew about his. It was just the way he was. He told me I was his family. I know he was mine. All we really had was each other and that had been enough. I didn't want to lose him.

* * *

 _I didn't know he was going to be there. He walked in just as I'd started "Notice Me" and there was nothing I could do about it but finish it. I tried not to look at him, but I couldn't help it. He stood at the bar, with a beer, just listening. The shadows kept me from seeing his eyes or the look on his face. He hardly moved, except to raise the bottle to his mouth a time or two. When I was done, I turned away from the crowd and put my guitar in the case. I felt totally exposed. It surely wasn't a subtle song, but I hoped he thought it was just another one of my "trying to write a hit instead of your truth" songs. When I went to walk off the stage, I didn't see him, and my heart sank._

 _I was headed out the back when he stepped in front of me. "Deacon!" I said, startled. "I didn't think you'd be here tonight."_

 _He looked at me a little oddly. "Last minute change in the lineup and I'm on late. So I thought I'd stop by." He took a deep breath. "I don't think I heard that one before."_

 _I felt like I was going to throw up. "Um, it's pretty new."_

 _He nodded. "It's nice, but it needs something."_

 _I looked away, catching myself before I rolled my eyes. He was always so critical. Then I looked back at him. "And just what does it need, Mr. Super Songwriter?" I retorted, my voice a little sharp. I couldn't help it. It was probably the first song I'd written that really had my whole heart in it and he still didn't like it. Plus it was about him, so it was incredibly personal._ _My_ _truth._

 _He looked surprised at my tone. "Uh, just a bridge or something. Between the verse and the chorus." He breathed out. "Look, I'm sorry, Rayna, I'm just trying to help. I didn't mean to make you mad."_

 _I felt tears threaten and I didn't want to cry in front of him, so I pushed past him and headed out the back door. He followed me out to my car. I whirled around to face him. "What do you want?" I cried out._

 _He frowned at first, then softened his face. I could see a ton of emotions in his eyes. "I, uh…did you write that about me?" he asked, his voice soft._

 _I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. "What?" I croaked out._

 _He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't know, it just sounded like…." He looked away. "Forget it."_

" _Why would you think that, Deacon?" I asked, my voice cracking. "You've got a girl back home."_

 _He turned to look at me. "What?" His face was all screwed up._

 _I sighed. "That song you sang for me. About the girl back home and how you wanted to be true to her."_

 _He let out a sharp laugh. "Oh. Wow. Well, yeah, I did write that about a girl back home, but not long after I came here I heard she hooked up with someone else. So now it's just another love song. I added it to my set list and people seem to like it." I stood there staring at him. "So there's nobody. If that's what you were thinking." He sighed. "So, did you? Write that for me?"_

 _My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. "Why does it matter?" I asked, my voice shaky. I could feel a tear escape down my cheek and I was mortified to show him my emotions._

 _He rocked back and forth on his feet. "Well, um. Because I did. Notice you."_

 _I felt dizzy, a little like I was flying outside my body. I hadn't expected that. He took a step towards me and put his hand against my cheek. Then he leaned in and kissed me, the sweetest kiss I'd ever had. His lips felt warm against mine as they lingered there for just a moment. Then he pulled back just a smidge and looked into my eyes. I caught my breath as I looked at him. "Do that again," I whispered._

 _And he did._

* * *

I got out of bed slowly, trying not to wake him up. He made a little noise, but didn't move. He was frowning in his sleep, that adorable crease between his eyebrows. I wanted to run my finger over it, ease him out of it, but I didn't want to disturb him. I straightened out the sheet and covered him. Then I went into the bathroom and got in the shower. As I let the warm water run over me, I wondered what would happen next. Was he really okay with the record deal? Or was that just the whiskey talking? One thing I'd learned was that he could be sweet or he could be mean when he was drunk, and neither of those things could still be true in the cold light of day.

When I got out of the shower, I ran a comb through my hair and got dressed. I stood by the bed. He hadn't moved, still lightly snoring. I walked out, closing the door behind me. I went in the kitchen and made coffee. While I waited for it to finish, I pulled out a piece of paper and made a short grocery list. We had a little more money this week because we'd had a paying gig every night, so I thought I'd splurge on something for dinner.

I had just poured myself a cup of coffee when a knock came at the door. I frowned. Who could be coming by this early? When I opened the door, it was a courier, and he handed me a tan envelope with my name on the outside. I thanked him and closed the door. I sat down at the little kitchenette table and opened the envelope. I pulled out a stack of papers neatly stapled in one corner. When I turned the stack over, I caught my breath. It was the contract from Edgehill Republic.

I glanced over at the bedroom door, then turned back to the papers in front of me. My hands were shaking. I read through it, not carefully, but I homed in on the important parts. The number of albums, the royalty percent, the tour and publicity support. I took a deep breath. I had dreamed of holding one of these in my hands someday. I had wondered if it would ever happen, and now it had. I couldn't help but feel excited, but at the same time, it was bittersweet. Once Deacon and I had started performing together, I had looked at that as my path to stardom. It was going to be Deacon Claybourne and Rayna Jaymes, together.

I still wasn't sure what to do. I slid the contract back into the envelope and put it under some other mail on the table. I got up and picked up my grocery list, sticking it in my purse. I wrote out a note for Deacon – _gone to the store_ – and picked up the keys and left the apartment.

* * *

 _I couldn't get enough of kissing Deacon. He was the best kisser. Not that I'd had much experience with that, but I could tell that he was good. He was gentle at first, careful to let me set the pace. I loved the feel of his lips on mine and his hands wrapped around my waist or rubbing my cheek or brushing down my arm. I felt the most intense tingles race through my body every time he touched me, or looked at me, or smiled at me. I was so in love with Deacon Claybourne._

 _We didn't see each other every day. Sometimes Daddy was home and I couldn't get away. Or Deacon had a gig and we couldn't meet for guitar lessons. It didn't take long before those guitar lessons turned into primarily make-out sessions. The first time he put his tongue in my mouth, I'd been startled. I'd never kissed a boy like that before. But I found out that I liked it. Really liked it. He was patient with me and taught me the art of kissing._

 _The first time he moved his hands someplace other than my waist or back, we were in his truck. I had met him at the park and instead of going over to the picnic table for a guitar lesson, I had hopped out of my car and into his truck. I had wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, deeply. When he finally pulled back, he'd smiled at me. "I like the way you kiss, Rayna Wyatt," he said, his voice deep and husky._

 _I sat back on the seat and smiled back, a little shyly. "I like the way you kiss too, Deacon," I said. Then he pulled me back into his arms and we kissed some more. But when he moved his hand up to cover my breast, I jumped back from him. "What are you doing?" I cried._

 _He looked stunned. "I just…um," he started._

 _I shook my head. "I'm not ready for that."_

 _He looked at me oddly. "What do you mean?"_

 _I took a deep breath and looked down at my hands. "Just what I said." I could feel my face getting warm._

 _He reached out and put a finger under my chin and gently lifted my head up so I could face him. His eyes were filled with concern. "Was that the first time?" he asked gently. I was mortified. I knew I turned red and I looked away from him. "It's okay, Rayna," he said, finally. He breathed out. "Look at me."_

 _I didn't want to. I felt embarrassed, although I wasn't quite sure why. But finally I turned to look at him and saw that same caring look in his eyes. I clasped my hands tightly on my lap. "I've never really had a boyfriend," I said quietly. "Or even really a boy who liked me much."_

 _He raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised. You're so pretty. And sweet."_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Well, you know, they all think there's something wrong with me because I like country music."_

 _He smiled. "I don't." He reached out and took my hand. "That's one of the things I really…like about you."_

 _For some reason, I felt a wash of emotions run over me and I almost felt like crying. "You do?"_

 _He chuckled. "Well, sure. I like country music. I like girls that like country music. Especially when they're as pretty as you."_

 _I could feel myself blush. Then I laughed a little. "That's gonna take some getting used to, I guess." Then I pulled my hand from his. "But I'm still not ready for that."_

 _He nodded. "We can take all the time you need," he said. He pulled me into a hug and I felt happy._

* * *

When I walked in the apartment with the groceries, Deacon was slouched on the couch. He looked up as I walked in. When I saw the envelope on the coffee table, with the contract out, my heart sank. His face was unreadable.

I stopped in the middle of the room, with the bags in my hands, and just looked at him. "Hey," I said.

"Hey." He took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. Then he looked back at me. "Why don't you put those down and come sit with me?" His voice wasn't quite flat, but I couldn't get a good read on what he was thinking or feeling.

I took the bags in the kitchen. After I put the milk, cheese, and meat in the fridge, I walked back over and sat next to him. He put his arm around me and I leaned into his shoulder, relaxing a little bit. He ran his fingers through my hair. "It's a good contract, Ray," he said quietly. "Really good."

I sat up and looked at him, my hands resting on his leg. "Really?"

He nodded. "Five albums. Twelve percent royalties. Lots of creative freedom. Damn good for a new artist." He gave me a little smile. "You deserve all that."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding in. "What should I do?"

He breathed in and then out. "I think you should sign it."

"Really?"

He nodded again. "Well, with one addition." He leaned over and picked it up. He looked back at me, that little crease forming between his eyebrows as he frowned. "You said I'd still be your guitar player, but I don't see that in here. I think you should make sure it is." He raised his eyebrows. "If that's what you want."

I nodded. "Of course it is. I'll need a band and you have to be my bandleader."

He breathed in. "I'll always be there for you, Ray, you know that." He swallowed hard. "I still want to pursue my own thing though." He put the contract back on the table.

I hadn't really expected that, or considered that. But of course he'd still want his own career. That's what he was working towards when we first met. "Well, sure, babe. I get that." And I did get it, but it made me a little sad. I thought Deacon was amazing as an artist and, despite what Watty had said, I believed some label would want him. But then what would happen to us? I took his hand in mine. "I don't want this to tear us apart though," I said.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes following his motion first, then landing back on my face. "It won't. I love you, Rayna. Til the day I die, I'll love you."

That brought tears to my eyes. I smiled. "I love you too, Deacon. I was just so worried…." Then I broke down in tears.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to rub the tears away with his thumb, his face all worried. "I won't leave you. You weren't thinking that, were you?"

I shrugged. "Maybe." I took a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. "You were so mad. And I was afraid…."

He leaned in and kissed me. "Baby, I won't leave you. Yeah, it hurt me. Y _ou_ didn't, though. You deserve this. You do. I always knew you would do this. Watty even told me that, back in the beginning. But we went all these years, you and me, and it's been good. I guess I figured that's what we'd do."

I put my hands on his face. "Deacon, I've loved doing this with you. So much. If I thought it would tear us apart, though, I'd say no to this contract. You are more important than any contract. I mean, there'd be no Rayna Jaymes without Deacon Claybourne. Everything I am is because of you. You make me better."

He smiled. "We make each other better."

I rubbed my thumb over his lips. "We do." He reached for me then and pulled me onto his lap, kissing me as he did. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him. I pulled my lips from his and looked into his eyes. "Tell me if you don't want me to sign that contract," I whispered.

He kissed me gently. "We can do this," he whispered back. Then he leaned me back against the couch and ran his hand up under my skirt. I moaned as he touched me and then let myself get lost in the waves of desire.

* * *

 _I met Deacon at the park on a hot summer day. We sat in the shade, our shoulders together, as he ran through riffs on his guitar. I had mostly given up on being able to play well and dreaded the nights I had to do an open mic on my own. I had really grown to depend on him. Watty had still been bugging me to let Deacon take a look at some of my songs though. I had resisted that, but now, having heard some of what Deacon had written, I thought he probably could help me._

 _I turned to him and he stopped playing, turning to look at me, his eyebrows raised. "So you said my song needed something," I said. "What were you thinking?"_

 _He smirked. "What song?"_

 _I swatted his arm. "You know. The one you walked in on." I was pretty sure I was blushing._

 _He grinned. "Are you gonna admit it was for me?"_

 _I huffed. "Okay. Yes, I wrote it_ _about_ _you. Happy now?"_

 _He laughed. "Oh, I been happy, Rayna. Been happy ever since I met you. I didn't need a song."_

 _I felt all bubbly inside when he said that. I felt like jumping up and turning cartwheels, not that I knew how to turn cartwheels. I just wanted to, I don't know,_ _sing_ _! I smiled at him. "You know, I just feel like so much is happening in my life right now. Everything is changing and it feels good, but crazy too. You know?"_

 _He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in, kissing me on the forehead. "It's all wide open, Rayna. We don't know what's gonna happen, but I do know I like doing this with you."_

 _I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned back on his shoulder. "So, what does my song need?"_

 _He handed me his guitar. "Play it for me. It's easier for me when I can hear it."_

 _I swallowed hard. It was one thing for him to walk in while I was playing it, it was another thing to do it on purpose. "Okay," I croaked._

 _He grinned. "You don't have to look at me if you don't want to. If that would be easier."_

 _I nodded and looked away. "Okay," I said. Then I sang the song for him all the way through. About halfway through, I did glance over at him and he was leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed, listening, his foot keeping time with the music. I smiled a little to myself. It was kind of nice to play it for him, now that he knew about it, and I didn't feel quite as self-conscious about it as I had the first time._

 _When I was done, he opened his eyes and looked at me. One thing I had learned about Deacon Claybourne, in the time I'd known him, was that he wore his heart on his sleeve and he carried his feelings in his eyes. And right now, his eyes were full of all kinds of emotions. Good ones. I felt myself shiver a little with the realization. He breathed out. "You know, that's really good, Rayna. The words are good, the melody is good." He paused. "Even though I know your truth about it, it's good. But…." He winked. "It needs a bridge. Then it could be great."_

 _I took that in. "Okay, so what does that mean? Where do I put it?"_

" _Between each verse and your chorus. Doesn't have to be much. A couple lines." He sat up and looked at me intently. "So, like, after your first verse, which is all that wishing and wondering stuff, maybe something about how crazy it is, how we don't know what will happen. And then after your second verse, where you're rolling it over in your head, wondering if you should move ahead, it's about taking that leap, giving it a try."_

 _I was amazed. It was only the second time he'd heard the song and the first time all the way through, and yet he really had listened to the words and remembered what I was trying to say. I thought about it for a minute. "What about 'maybe it's crazy, there's so much changing, and no one knows where it could go'?"_

 _He leaned his head back and I could tell he was rolling it over in his head. Then he looked at me. "You got something you can write it down on?" he asked. I nodded, pulling a notebook out of my purse. One of the things Deacon had taught me about songwriting was that you always needed to carry a notebook to write stuff down. Even a small one. He said every now and then he got caught without something and would use a napkin, but he always tried to have paper in his wallet, at least. When I was ready, I looked at him. "What about this – 'maybe it's insane, we got so much that's changing, and nobody knows where this could go'?"_

 _I finished writing and then nodded. "What about the melody?" I asked, and he took his guitar back and picked out a melody line. Then he looked at me, waiting for my response._

 _I smiled. "I like it." I clapped my hands. "Now we need to come up with the other one!"_

 _It didn't take but a few minutes to work through the second bridge and then I played the song all the way through. When I was done, I sat back and just let it all soak in. Deacon had been right. The bridge made all the difference. I turned and leaned into him, kissing him softly. He smiled. "You got a really good song there, Rayna," he said. "One you can be really proud of."_

 _I put the guitar down and slid over closer to him. "Thank you," I said, and then I reached up and put my hand on his cheek, drawing him down to me again, kissing him with more intensity. He turned slightly and put his arm around my waist and we sat there, just kissing. When we finally pulled away from each other, we were both a little breathless and we smiled at each other. It was on the tip of my tongue to say "I love you", but I thought it was too soon. I'd only known him a few months and I was afraid he'd think I was just a silly girl._

 _He ran his hand over my hair and then pushed a strand behind my ear, smiling as he did it. He let his thumb run down my cheekbone and across my lips. Then he took a deep breath and his face turned serious. "You know, we been doing this, this kissing and stuff, and hanging out, for a while. I feel like I should ask you on a proper date."_

 _I screwed up my face. "Do you really think so?"_

 _He worked his lip. "Should I?"_

 _I breathed out and then I shrugged. "I don't know." I looked at him. "I just feel like we're together, you know? I don't think we have to date. We're just, you know, us."_

 _He smiled and then leaned over and kissed me. "Am I your boyfriend then, Rayna Wyatt?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice._

 _I smiled back and nodded. "Yeah, I think you are." Then I breathed in sharply. "Am I your girlfriend?" I held my breath a little, waiting for his answer._

 _He laughed and then put his arm around my shoulders. "Yeah, Rayna, you're my girlfriend." And then he leaned over and kissed me ever so gently, in that way that made me shiver inside, it was so sweet._

* * *

I felt like I was in a haze. A sun-wrapped, love filled haze. I couldn't get enough of Deacon's hands on me, his lips on me, taking me over the edge time after time. We finally ended up in our bed, with his arms wrapped around me from behind and his lips nuzzling my neck, whispering over and over how much he loved me. I felt like I was floating away on a cloud and eventually I must have fallen asleep.

I woke up to Deacon's lips on mine and when I opened my eyes, it was nearly dark. Deacon was standing beside the bed, leaning over me, his hair damp, all dressed. I frowned. "What's going on?" I murmured, still floating on that lovemaking high.

He ran his thumb over my cheek. "Sorry, baby, I gotta run," he said. He walked over to the dresser and picked up his wallet.

I rolled onto my side. "Where are you going?" I asked.

He looked at me in the mirror. "I got a gig at Robert's."

"I wish you'd gotten me up, so I could've gone with you." I didn't like that he was going to be out again tonight.

He shrugged. "You were sleeping. Looked like you could use it." He slid his wallet into his back pocket, then reached for his keys.

I sat up, pulling the sheet up around me. "Is this how it's gonna be? Because of the contract?" I was annoyed.

He looked at me for a minute, then shook his head. "Nah. Sometimes, they just want me." He started for the door.

"Deacon!" I called out. He stopped and turned back to look at me. "Are you punishing me?"

He sighed. "No, Ray, I'm not. I got a call to do this. Just me. I know you hate Robert's, how crowded it is and smoky and all, so I thought I'd just do it and let you sleep. It ain't got nothing to do with anything. It ain't the first time I got a call about doing my own gig. You know that."

He was right. He did still get calls for gigs on his own. And I did hate Robert's. I hated all those honky-tonks down on Broadway, really. I felt bad for doubting him. I nodded. "Okay. But don't stay too long, okay?"

He smiled then, a real, genuine smile. "When I got you here at home waiting for me? Not a chance." He picked up his guitar case. "I'll be back."

I smiled back at him. "I'll be waiting." He turned and walked out of the bedroom. I heard the door open and close and the key in the lock. I lay back on the pillows and smiled to myself.


	7. Chapter 7

After Deacon left, I got up and got dressed. I had a vaguely unsettled feeling about him leaving and the way that had happened. I walked out to the living room and I saw that his guitar was gone, so I relaxed a little. Then I felt bad, like somehow I didn't trust him. What was different between two days ago and today that would make me feel that way? _A recording contract._ That could change everything. Or nothing. It was hard to say, at this point.

I paced the apartment. I hated not having another car, but then it occurred to me that with the contract, and the advance on the first album, I could fix that. I picked up the phone and called Bucky. "Hey, Buck," I said when he answered. "So, I looked at the contract, and Deacon looked at the contract and there's one thing that I want to be sure is in there. The part where Deacon is my guitar player." I listened to him tell me that the contract gave me the right to choose my band members, once we were touring. But that didn't really cover recording the album and I really needed him to be there for all of it. I couldn't do this without him there. So I insisted. "I want his name specifically there, Bucky. For the studio too. Can you do that for me?" When he confirmed he would do that, I felt better. Now all I could do was wait for Deacon to come home.

* * *

 _When I started letting Deacon pick me up for events we did together, and even for some of our afternoons, I worried that he was going to bolt. The Wyatt mansion was pretty imposing, even for Belle Meade. The house was mostly hidden from the road by huge shrubbery and even driving up to the front, it was hard to see, exactly, just how large it was. But that was Daddy. He liked to be the most important, have the biggest and the best, even if it was over-the-top and embarrassing._

 _The first time Deacon came to the house, I stood at the sidelight by the front door to watch for him. When I saw his truck come up the drive, I felt all quivery inside and felt that curious warmth deep in my core that was both strange and intriguing to me. In the past, when I'd had a crush on a boy, I'd feel my heart beat faster and my mouth would dry out, but that was about it. With Deacon, it was that plus these mysterious sensations that I'd never had before and didn't understand at all. Except that they made me feel good._

 _The truck stopped, but he didn't immediately get out. I was a little afraid he was going to drive off, so I opened the door and hurried out to the top of the steps. I could see him sitting there, just staring at the house. I smiled and waved. When I caught his eye, he smiled a little hesitantly as he opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He stood with his hands on his hips, just looking up at the front of the house. Then he looked at me. "Damn, Rayna," he said, quietly. "I knew you was rich, but….damn."_

 _I ran down the steps and over to him, standing close, but not touching him. I rolled my eyes. "It's kind of ridiculous. But Daddy likes to have the biggest of everything. Even when it was four of us, it was too much, and now it's just Daddy and me. So." I realized that Deacon looked a little in shock still. "Do you want to come in?"_

 _He stood, just looking back at the house, at first, then looked at me and shook his head, frowning. "I don't belong here," he said._

 _I felt a lump in my throat. I was afraid he wouldn't want to be with me anymore, now that he knew more about me. That he would think I really was a Belle Meade debutante, instead of someone who was serious about her music and a career. I put my hand on his chest. "Deacon," I started._

 _He raised his eyebrows and then reached his hand out to cup the back of my head. "Neither do you," he said. "This ain't you, Rayna. Not the girl I know."_

 _I breathed a sigh of relief. "No, it's not."_

 _He took a deep breath and then grabbed my hand. "Let's get out of here," he said. And so we did._

 _###_

 _Eventually he got less freaked out about coming to the house. He nearly always, when we had an open mic together or were spending time together, would come pick me up, instead of me meeting him. I finally talked him into coming into the house one day. I practically had to pull him in the front door, as I laughed at his reluctance. When we were standing in the foyer, he just stood and gaped, turning around slowly as he did._

" _Damn, Rayna," he said, almost in awe. "I ain't never seen nothing like this before. I don't think the house I grew up in was as big as this…this…whatever this is."_

 _I laughed. "Foyer."_

 _He looked at me, with a crooked smile, and shook his head. "We didn't have a 'foyer'. Just opened the door and walked on in." He walked around a little, looking into the rooms off the foyer. The dining room, the formal living room, then Daddy's library. That room seemed to intrigue him, with its dark wood and masculine furnishings, the walls lined with built-in bookshelves and filled with beautiful hardbound books. Too me it was the most terrifying room in the house, the place where Daddy was king and he could make you feel unbelievably small as he talked down to you. Daddy didn't yell much, although he did talk loudly when he was mad, and that was almost more frightening than if he'd shouted at you._

" _It always seems like a museum to me," I said, with a sigh. "My mom hated it here and I guess I got that from her."_

 _He turned to look at me. "How long ago did your mom die?" he asked._

 _I gave him a sad smile. "Four and a half years ago. When I was twelve. She died in a car accident, late one night. Daddy was out of town, in Louisville, I think. I don't even think Tandy and I knew Mom had left the house, and nobody told us what happened until Daddy came home." As long ago as it had been now, I still felt the prick of tears in my eyes. I turned away from Deacon so he wouldn't see them._

 _He walked over and pulled me into an embrace, rubbing my back and kissing the top of my head. I relaxed into his arms, wrapping mine around his waist, feeling safe and secure here. And loved. Even though neither of us had said that word – I didn't even know if he felt that way about me – that's how I felt. I'd felt it from the first time he'd kissed me. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. He just held me like that for a while and then we finally stepped apart and he took my hand and we walked out to his truck._

* * *

I waited in the living room for Deacon to come home. As it got later and later, I got more worried. Deacon had always been a drinker, ever since I'd known him. Even before he was legal. I'd found out that his father had been a drunk. A mean snake of a drunk. Beverly had told me that, when Deacon and I went down to meet her daughter Scarlett for the first time. Of course, Beverly told me that to be spiteful and mean, not out of any sisterly concern for him.

He had gotten drunk that night, more so than usual, more than I had ever seen him in the time I'd known him. As it happened, when we had gone down there, his father was in jail three counties over, for drunk and disorderly behavior and an accident he'd been involved in that had resulted in serious injuries. Deacon had been skittish about going at all, which I hadn't understood, until we got there. Beverly had greeted him with that news and that seemed to settle him down a bit, knowing he wouldn't have to run into his father. Evidently the cops three counties over weren't very tolerant of Jed Claybourne's antics.

I never met Deacon's parents. His mother was already dead when I met him, his father died two years ago. He'd always seemed relieved about that. But it hadn't kept him from fulfilling the apparent legacy Jed left behind. When Deacon passed out on Beverly's back porch, she'd given me a surprisingly triumphant look. _See? Even you, the perfect girlfriend, can't keep him straight. I hope you're ready for a lifetime of pain and hurt and disappointment, lady, because that's what you can look forward to._

I'd been shocked at the venom in her voice and the look of hatred on her face. I had no idea where it came from, since I didn't know her well at all. I didn't respond to her, just went outside and managed to get Deacon roused enough to get him inside and into the bedroom we were sleeping in. He'd had the worst hangover I'd ever seen him have the next day and I'd had to drive home, pulling over periodically to let him puke on the side of the road. It had frightened me to see him that out of control, but it was a long time until I saw that again.

Unfortunately it happened more often these days. I couldn't blame it on the contract either; this had been going on for months. I worried about him, afraid he was sliding into that dark hole. He used alcohol as a way to cover up disappointment – when we couldn't seem to get over the hump professionally, when we were struggling to make ends meet, when he couldn't give me the things he thought I wanted. He drank more and more often and more often than not, he ended up wasted, passed out somewhere, unable to function.

So on a night like this, when it was inching past twelve and he'd been gone for hours, I was pretty sure alcohol was involved and I knew that I wasn't there to keep him safe. It was times like these I worried most of all, unable to sleep until I knew he was home, safe with me. I pulled my legs up to my chest and leaned my head on my knees. _Please God, bring him home safe._

When I heard the key in the lock, I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked up as Deacon walked through the door. He actually didn't seem really drunk and he looked surprised to see me sitting there. "Hey, baby," he said, as he closed the door and then put down his guitar case. He came over to sit next to me, pulling me into his arms. He kissed me and I tasted whiskey, so I knew he had been drinking, but at least he didn't seem to be in bad shape. "I thought you'd be asleep."

I made a face. "I slept earlier. I was waiting for you," I said, pouting a little. "I didn't think you'd be gone this long."

"Some of the guys that were on after me asked me to sit in, so I did. Turns out it was a good thing. A producer was there that liked my stuff. Wants me to do a demo. Thinks he could get me in front of some indie labels." He nuzzled my neck, then brushed his lips across mine and smiled at me. "Maybe you won't be the only one with a record deal."

I put my arms around his neck and smiled happily. "Babe, that would be awesome! I'm so proud of you." I kissed him, then pulled back and ran my hands up under his t-shirt. I pushed it up and leaned in to pepper his chest with little kisses. Then I crawled up on his lap and straddled him, pressing my mouth against his, pulling at his lip until he opened his mouth to mine. He reached behind me and pressed his hands against my ass, pushing me towards him. I stopped kissing him long enough to say, "I think we should celebrate, don't you?"

He grinned. "Oh, hell yeah." And then he pushed me up and off of him and got up from the couch, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the bedroom.

* * *

 _It had been a really good night. We'd done another open mic at the Bluebird, which was my favorite place to play. Deacon had two songs and I had two songs, and he played guitar for me. He'd helped me clean up and improve the songs I had, but I realized, as I listened to him play his two songs, ones I'd never heard before, that he was truly a gifted songwriter. So much better than you would expect of someone who was just nineteen. I felt this pull that night to ask if we could write together. I didn't know what he'd say about that, but I decided I would ask him anyway._

 _Deacon was on before me, so when I finished, we stayed until the break and then left. We got in the truck and Deacon leaned in and kissed me hard. "You were great tonight, Rayna," he said, looking deep into my eyes._

 _I smiled at him. "You were too." I took a deep breath. "You're such an amazing songwriter, Deacon. Do you think sometime we could write together?"_

 _He looked surprised. "Really?"_

 _I wasn't sure if he thought it was a good idea or if he thought I was completely crazy to have brought it up. "Unless you don't think it's a good idea," I said._

 _He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. "I think we could write amazing songs together, Rayna," he said. "I would love to write with you." I breathed out and smiled at him. "But I gotta get you home now. We'll talk more about it tomorrow."_

 _He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. As we headed up Hillsboro Pike, he looked over at me and grinned, then took my hand in his. I sat back and let the warm, happy feelings roll over me as we drove the short distance to my house. When we pulled in the driveway, Deacon stopped the truck and turned it off. He reached for me, pulling me into his arms, and kissed me deeply. I scooched over as far as I could and, wrapping my arms around his waist, slid my leg over his. We kissed hungrily, as he ran his hands up over my back. I was in my own little world, completely caught up in the intoxicating wonderfulness that was Deacon Claybourne._

 _I was completely shocked back to reality when the passenger door of the truck was jerked open. "What the hell is going on here?" came Daddy's loud growl._

 _I jumped and pulled away from Deacon, turning to face my father, his face red and his eyes blazing. My father, who was supposed to be on an overnight trip to Memphis. What the hell was he doing here? "Daddy," I croaked, my voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere else._

" _Is this what happens when I'm not here, Rayna?" he said, his voice deceptively low. "You let yourself be taken advantage of by the help?"_

 _I could feel Deacon bristle behind me and I snapped out of my shock then. I narrowed my eyes at my father. "He's not 'the help'," I retorted. "He's my singing partner. And…my boyfriend."_

 _Daddy looked around me at Deacon, then back at me, his eyes cold as ice. "Oh, your boyfriend. Is that so?" He smiled, but it was that nasty 'I'm going to take you down' smile of his. "I don't think so, little lady. What I do think is that you're coming in the house right now. This is the end of this little singing folly of yours, Rayna. And your wrong side of the tracks friend here" – he jerked his head towards Deacon – "well, he can run along back to the other side of the river, where he belongs, with all the other riff raff."_

 _Deacon opened his door and I knew that would only be trouble, so I turned and grabbed his arm. His face was dark with anger. "Don't," I said quietly. "It's okay." I tried to signal to him with my eyes not to worry, but I wasn't sure he understood. "Just go on. For now." He looked at me, pain in his eyes._

" _Rayna, get out now," Daddy warned, behind me. I turned and looked at him. He had that look on his face that seemed to say 'don't cross me or else'. "As long as you live in my house, little girl, you'll live by my rules," he said, his voice low and menacing._

 _I looked back at Deacon one last time and then slid out of the truck. I didn't want to, but it didn't seem like the right time then to make things worse. I needed to figure out how much trouble I was in first. After I closed the door, Deacon started the truck and peeled out of the drive, his tires screeching as he did. I felt tears roll down my cheeks. I stood there watching, as he disappeared, and then I ran my hands over my cheeks and turned back to Daddy. "How dare you!" I shrieked at him. "How could you have been so, so rude!"_

 _He smiled and then just laughed. "Rude?" he said. Then the smile left his face and his eyes grew icy cold. "Rude is going behind my back and doing exactly what I told you not to do. And then on top of that, to be out with some scruffy ragamuffin that's not even fit to sweep the walk in front of you. Don't embarrass yourself, Rayna, any more than you already have." He turned to walk in the house. Then he stopped and turned back to me. "Don't think I won't have eyes on you from now on, little girl." Then he walked up the steps._

 _I was so angry I could hardly see straight. "I hate you!" I screamed at his back. "I absolutely and totally hate you!" If my words mattered to him, I couldn't tell._

* * *

Once I signed the contract with Edgehill, things got really crazy really fast. Deacon and I sat down with Dan Eagle and the producer who would be working on my album, as well as Bucky and Watty, to hammer out the track list for my first album. Dan was friendly and helpful, but I also knew he was a very powerful man in Nashville country music circles. He'd been the top A&R man at Sony Nashville for years before leaving to start his own label and Watty had told me that, while he was a nurturer of talent on the surface, underneath was a hardcore businessman who wouldn't hesitate to push me in the direction he saw fit. So it was probably no surprise that he pushed his own agenda, now that I had officially signed.

I guess Deacon and I were naïve to think that we – I – really did have control over my career. I did, a little bit, but I wasn't paying to make my album, Edgehill was. And Dan brought in his own producer, session musicians, in addition to Deacon, a publicist for me and a stylist. The girly side of me loved being pampered, but the denim and rhinestone look they wanted for me took a little time to feel comfortable. I really wanted to wear my blue jeans and Deacon's flannel shirts, but that was totally off limits, I learned.

When we started talking about what would actually go on the album, my frustration level started to rise. They were agreeable to using a couple of the songs Deacon and I had written, but not all of them, which disappointed me and pissed Deacon off. They brought in lots of songs from writers all over Nashville, many of which I didn't think were quite me. It was frustrating and there were lots of days, when we were going through this exercise, that both Deacon and I would leave Edgehill's office, in a little bungalow off Music Row, exhausted and irritated.

Things came to a head one afternoon, as we listened to demo after demo of new music, very little of which felt like me. I could feel the tension rolling off Deacon and finally he let it out. "You know, all this is decent stuff," he said, "but it ain't Rayna. I thought you wanted her to be successful."

Dan was careful not to show his feelings, although I knew from Watty that he was losing his patience with him. "Deacon, you need to give us a little credit here for knowing what will sell and what works for the image we're trying to present for Rayna," he said, his voice even but firm.

Deacon let out a sharp laugh. "That's just it. You're trying to make her something she's not. You keep wanting her to sing these other songs, when we have more than enough that we've written together, enough to fill up all five albums in her contract." He glared at Dan. "She don't _need_ no other songs. Hell, she can do our songs and sing 'em all by herself, if that's what you want."

Dan breathed out. "The point is, Deacon, the songs you wrote together are for a duo. Rayna is a solo artist now. And we need songs for a solo artist."

I held my breath. I could see Deacon's face turn dark, out of the corner of my eye, and his jaw was twitching. He suddenly pushed back from the table, overturning his chair, and he stormed out. I sat for just a second, a little stunned, then pushed back my own chair and went after him. I chased him out of the bungalow as he headed for the truck.

"Deacon!" I called after him, but he kept walking. "Deacon, please!"

He stopped and whirled around, his face dark as a thundercloud. "I ain't listening to no more of that bullshit, Ray," he said. He raised his eyebrows. "And I can't figure out why you ain't standing up for yourself more."

I had walked up to stand in front of him and that brought me up short. I frowned at him. "I'm fighting for our songs, Deacon. You know that. But I have to listen to what they think will sell."

He ran his hands over his face, anger still pouring off him. "I'm leaving," he said. "You don't need me here."

"But I _do_ need you, babe," I said. We were standing on the sidewalk in front of the bungalow and I felt a little exposed. I didn't really want to have this argument here. "Please come back inside."

Deacon put his hands on his hips and leaned towards me. "I ain't gonna sit there and listen to them try to force you to do stuff that just ain't you, Rayna!" he yelled. He looked at me. "You need to stand up for yourself. I know you can be a little spitfire." He raised his eyebrows at me, his eyes steely. "You need to use that Rayna Jaymes charm and get what you want. This is _your_ album and _your_ career, baby. Take charge."

He waved me off and then turned to walk to his truck. I was so surprised that I was several steps behind him as I hurried after him. But he was already in the truck and had it started. "Deacon!" I shouted at him, ignoring the stares of people walking along the sidewalk around us. He didn't even look at me as he pulled away from the curb and started down the road. I stepped out to the space he'd vacated. "Deacon!" I shouted louder, but just had to watch as he sped away. I felt both sad and angry as I stood there, watching until I could no longer see him. Then I sighed and walked back to the Edgehill office, not having anywhere else to go.

* * *

He wasn't at the apartment when I got there, after Watty dropped me off. It was hours later when he did finally come home, drunk and angry. We fought, about the meeting, about his leaving me, about our songs, about his drinking. I finally walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me, and got in the shower. I stood there, letting the water roll down over me, crying, until Deacon came in and pushed the shower curtain aside, stepping into the shower with me.

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around me, just holding me tight for a moment. Then he kissed my shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered.

I just nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. I was still mad, but I didn't want to fight anymore. It felt like that was all we were doing and I hated it. So I let it all go, as the water ran over us and as he slid his hands over my breasts. I moaned in the back of my throat as I let him press me against the wall and tell me he was sorry in that way he had that didn't involve words at all.

* * *

Deacon wouldn't go back with me to Edgehill the next day. I understood and yet I was hurt. "Deacon, I need you," I said to him. "I feel like I'm sitting there all alone, the only one standing there for me."

He looked at me, a puzzled look on his face. "That's crazy, Rayna. Bucky and Watty are right there with you. They're on your side. You don't need me to be there," he said.

I breathed out. "They don't know me the way you know me, babe. They don't understand what I'm trying to do the way you do."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Ray, if you don't know what you're trying to do, I don't know how anyone else can get that for you. Even me. This is _your_ career, _your_ album. You gotta do this for yourself. I know you know how to stand up for yourself. I watched you do it over and over again, including against your own father. You don't need me to do that for you." I could feel the tears welling up and I was trying not to cry. He reached for my hand and his eyes became sympathetic. "I support you, Ray. You know that. But I'm just in the way here. You gotta fight for yourself. In the end, you're the only one can do that."

I took a deep breath and tried to smile at him. I squeezed his hand. "But I feel stronger when you're there beside me," I said.

He smiled at me. "I'm always there with you, baby. Even if I'm not in the room. But I want you to do this. Besides, I got a meeting with someone today about maybe putting out an album for me, so I gotta do that and I need to do some writing. I kinda put that on hold and I need to get back on it."

That was good news and I smiled happily. "Oh, Deacon, that's great!" I cried. "I can't wait to hear all about it." I hopped into his lap and kissed him as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Well, I think we both gotta lot to do today, so we better get at it," he said, with a laugh. "Don't forget we're doing the Station Inn tonight."

* * *

I was excited about the set that night, since we were still playing wherever we could to bring money in. I had gotten the advance, but I'd put it in the bank, too afraid to spend it. There was a clause in the contract that said if we never released an album, I'd have to pay it back, so I didn't want to take that risk. Besides, I still liked performing with Deacon when it was just us.

We weren't the normal genre at the Station Inn, but the regulars liked us, so we got booked there fairly often. We got set up and took our places on stools, with microphones in front of us. The crowd was pretty animated that night and we got an appreciative round of applause when we were introduced. When I looked out, it seemed like folks were really packed in. It was a lot more crowded than usual and the noise level seemed higher.

I smiled. "Hey, y'all," I said. "Thanks for coming out. We're gonna start out with a little song we wrote called 'Hopelessly Yours'." It was one of the songs Edgehill was going to let me put on my album and it was one we loved to play. Deacon did the intro and then I started us off.

 _I love you, I hate you / I'd forget you, but I'm afraid to / You loved me or did you / I'll never be sure / But one thing's for certain / In spite of this hurtin' / I'll always be / Hopelessly yours_

I was already in the zone, watching Deacon as he played the guitar, looking deep into his eyes when he looked up at me. I focused completely on him. And then it was his turn.

 _From laughin' to cryin' / From livin' to dyin' / From heaven to a heartache / I know I can't cure / But one thing's for certain / In spite of this hurtin' / I'll always be / Hopelessly yours_

* * *

It was a great night and we both felt energized at the end of it. I would miss this. I knew things were going to change, once the album was finished and I had to start doing all the work to promote it. That would all be on me. I would be the face of my own career and any success would be on my shoulders. Deacon would be there, sure, but he wasn't the one that would flame out if I failed. So this, singing with him, in our own world, was like my security blanket. I loved this, singing with him, like there was nobody else in our little world. I was determined that we would not lose all of this. I promised myself, and Deacon, that this would still be a big part of what I was about.

Deacon had had a good meeting, he'd told me, and he thought a deal was imminent. We'd celebrated after our set with shots of whiskey and I didn't even mind that we both were a little tipsy. Maybe me a little more than him. We were on such a high that night and when we got home, we couldn't get enough of each other. The sex was raw and uninhibited and when we were finally both spent, we fell asleep, Deacon spooning me. Life was good. Very, very good.

* * *

I woke up and it was still dark. I looked at the clock and it was just after four. Deacon had rolled over at some point and I could hear his rhythmic snoring. My mouth felt dry and I got up to get some water. I pulled on one of his t-shirts and walked out to the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind me. Once I had the glass of water, I went and sat on the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest.

I saw Deacon's notebook on the TV stand. I knew he'd been doing some writing, but I hadn't had time to look at any of it. I got up and picked up the notebook, then went back to sit on the couch, turning on the lamp. I started to skim through, smiling as I read. He was such a wonderful songwriter and I could tell these were going to be great on an album. Then I got to one that puzzled me as I read it. I felt a vague discomfort, reading the lyrics, thinking there surely must be some explanation. I went back and started reading again from the top, frowning as I did.

 _She's big top ten with bright spotlights / That woman sure knows how to shine / You almost can't believe your eyes / You can hardly wait to see the sight_

 _She'll have you walkin that high wire / Jumpin through rings of fire / Give you your moment in the sun / Be careful not to fall in love_

Was this about me?

 _Cause that curtain falls / The lights go out / The show goes on / She leaves town / If you know what's good for you, you'll just let her go / Or you'll end up next to me in her sideshow  
_  
It couldn't be about me. Because Deacon had been supportive of all this. Encouraging. Was this how he really felt? I felt a gnawing sensation in my gut. It was exactly what I'd been afraid of. Just then the bedroom door opened and he walked out, squinting in the lamp light. I looked up at him, his notebook still in my hand.

He swallowed as he looked at me. "What's going on?" he asked.

I closed the notebook and laid it on the coffee table. "Do you think you're just part of my sideshow?" I asked.

He stood there a minute, then breathed in, closing his eyes and rubbing his face. When he looked back at me, his face was impassive. "It's just a song, Rayna," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Just a song? Really? Is it your 'three chords and the truth'? Because that's what it seems like to me."

He frowned. "It's just a damn song, Ray." He took a deep breath. "But yeah, maybe there's a little truth there. There's always some truth. But it's just a song. It don't mean nothing."

But it didn't feel that way.

 _ **The song "Hopelessly Yours" was performed as a duet by Suzy Bogguss and Lee Greenwood.  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

Deacon worked his lip, standing there. I just looked up at him, not really sure what to say. Then he came over and sat on the coffee table, across from where I was sitting. He had that look in his eyes that I always thought of as the hurt puppy dog look. Whenever he was sorry or thought he'd hurt me or felt really hurt himself, he got this soulful look in his eyes that was hard to resist. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with his hands again. Then he looked back at me.

"I wrote that when this all first came up. Probably a day or two after you came home and told me Edgehill wanted to sign you. I wasn't mad at _you_ , Ray, but I was mad. I was hurt. I felt like I was gonna be on the sidelines forever." He looked down at his hands. "I thought you and me were gonna do this together, you know? When we started singing together, performing together, it was the best part of my life." He looked up again. "All I could think was that now it'd be over. But it's just words. I ain't even wrote a melody for it." He sighed. "I love you, Ray. That ain't ever gonna change. I'm so proud of you, you know that."

I took a deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of the couch. I ran my hand up and down his leg. "I don't ever want you to feel like you're not important to me, Deacon," I said. "I've loved you since the day I met you. And I always want you beside me. It just can't be any other way, you know?"

He looked down and laid his hand on top of mine. "I don't want it to be," he said quietly. He looked back at me, those puppy dog eyes breaking my heart. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to ever see that. I truly didn't."

I nodded and smiled at him. "I know. And I know this isn't easy. It's not easy for either one of us. But we'll figure it out. Right?"

A smile slowly broke across his face and he took my hand and pulled me over into his lap. He kissed me, wrapping his arms around me. "Right," he said. Then I put my hands on his face and I pulled him in for a proper kiss.

* * *

 _I followed Daddy into the house and headed for the stairs. "Rayna!" I heard him call out to me. I turned and he was leaning back on his desk in his library, his hands crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched. I waited. He looked at me for a minute, then walked a little closer. "That was not what I expected to see in my driveway tonight," he said. "Care to explain yourself?"_

 _I stood looking at him. "Not really," I finally said._

 _He raised his eyebrows at me. "Well, I think it's safe to say you won't be playing at being a country singer again any time soon. If I'm not here, there will be someone to keep an eye on you."_

 _I rolled my eyes. "You're going to get me a babysitter?"_

 _He smiled at me, but it wasn't a kind smile. "Oh, I think the house staff will step up their surveillance of you and your activities."_

 _I scowled. "That's ridiculous. I'm sixteen years old, Daddy. I'm not a baby."_

" _And yet you act like a small child, Rayna, who doesn't know her place and consorts with the wrong kind of people. Boys like that trailer trash you allowed to kiss you will just use you and damage your reputation."_

 _I was fuming. "Deacon's not like that. He's nice. He's a good person. Just because he's had a hard life doesn't mean he's a bad person."_

" _Deacon, huh? So is this Deacon looking for you to be his meal ticket? Does he see this nice house" – Daddy swept his arm around – "and think that he can ride on your coattails?"_

 _I put my hands on my hips. "That's ridiculous! You don't even know him. How dare you say those things about him. He's very talented and he's going to be performing on stage one day, not because of anything I do, but because he's really good." I glared at him. "Not that you'd be able to tell." Then I turned and ran up the stairs._

" _You aren't going to see him again, Rayna!" he called after me, but I just kept going to my room, where I slammed the door. Then I threw myself on the bed and cried._

 _###_

 _The next day I cut school at lunch time and drove to the diner across from the Bluebird, where Deacon and I had gone to talk that night we met. I went to the phone booth outside and put a quarter in the slot. I had no idea if he'd be home in the middle of the day or if I might wake him up, but I had to try. His phone rang four times before he answered, sounding like he'd been asleep. "What?" he snarled._

" _Deacon, it's me," I said quietly, as if someone were eavesdropping._

" _Rayna, hey," he said, sounding more awake suddenly. "Where you calling me from?"_

" _I'm at that diner across from the Bluebird." I bit my lip and twisted the phone cord with my fingers. "Are you mad?"_

 _He sighed. "Not at you."_

 _I breathed a sigh of relief. "Can you come meet me? I cut school."_

" _You shouldn't do that."_

" _I already did. So, will you come?"_

" _I'll be there as soon as I can." And he hung up._

 _I couldn't help but smile and then I even did a little pirouette. He wasn't mad at me! I went inside and, after being seated, ordered a Coke and a grilled cheese sandwich and waited for Deacon Claybourne._

 _###_

 _He finally came in the door, looking around like he thought maybe I'd left. I waved at him and he hurried over, sliding into the bench seat across from me. "Sorry. I thought I'd be here quicker," he said._

 _I smiled. "It's okay. I'm just glad you came."_

 _He reached for my hand across the table. "I'm sorry you got in trouble, Rayna," he said._

" _It's okay. I'm not worried." I squeezed his hand. "If Daddy thinks the house staff is gonna tattle on me, he's got another think coming." I winked at him. "They all hate him, but he doesn't know that."_

 _He leaned forward over the table. "Wanna know why I was late?"_

" _Why?"_

" _Watty called. He's got a gig for us." He smiled. "A paying gig."_

" _What?!" I was practically shouting. "Are you serious?"_

 _Deacon nodded. "It's at a really small place over in East Nashville, but it pays, Rayna. Real money."_

 _I was overjoyed. "When? How much? Oh my God, Deacon, this is huge!" I knew he'd had paying gigs before, so it wasn't as big a deal for him, but I felt like I had arrived. "For both of us?"_

" _Well, I'm your guitar player and I can sing back up for you. A hundred fifty bucks and any tips we get." He grinned. "Oh, and it's next Tuesday night. Can you do that? I know it's a school night."_

 _I sat back in my seat. "Oh. Wow. Well, I'll have to check." Then I thought – what the hell, I can do this! I looked back at Deacon. "I'll figure it out." Then I grinned. "We need to come up with a set list then." He smiled back at me and we spent the next hour doing just that._

* * *

I was exhausted. Between the late night at the Station Inn and waking up too early, I was really struggling. Even with two cups of coffee. Today was supposed to be the day we finalized the set list for my album, since we were due in the studio to record bright and early the following Monday. Deacon dropped me off at the Edgehill office, still refusing to participate, but at least we were better. And, while I wasn't expecting a great day, because I wasn't really in the right frame of mind, I didn't expect what actually happened.

I hadn't walked more than two steps into the house when Dan came storming out of his office, his face beet red. "What the hell were you thinking, Rayna?" he bellowed.

I was stunned. I had no idea what he was talking about. "What?" I asked, dumfounded.

"Doing a show last night? Playing one of the songs from your album? Are you trying to screw this up before we've even started?" Dan's arms were flying all over the place and he kept pacing back and forth. This was definitely not the calm guy I'd been dealing with up to now.

I frowned. "That's what Deacon and I do," I said, angry myself now. "We do sets around town. Are you telling me we can't do that now?"

Dan stopped pacing and looked at me intently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bucky and Watty come out from the back. "You're a solo act now, Rayna," he said, his tone more measured. "You can't go around town and present yourself still as a duo. It confuses the message. And you definitely can't sing something we're putting on the album. Especially if we're reworking it as a solo number."

That shocked me. "Excuse me?" I said. "You're telling me Deacon's not singing with me?"

"Deacon's singing back up. That's it. That was always the deal."

Anger was boiling up from my gut. This was where I needed to take a stand. "No. Not on the two songs we wrote. That is _not_ the deal. He sings _with_ me or we don't do them. I'm not changing my mind on that." I stood there, glaring at Dan. Much later, I would remember this moment as being the one where I first took charge of my career. I was just twenty years old and not as savvy as I thought I was about the music industry, but I knew this was a turning point for me. I'd worked hard for this opportunity and I wanted it on _my_ terms. I wanted it to be _my_ vision that came across on that album, that filled up venues with crowds of people that would come to hear me sing, that went out over the radio as my songs played and as I met with DJ's to tell my story. I stood up to Dan Eagle, a legend in country music, and showed him who Rayna Jaymes really was.

He didn't have to know that I was quaking in my well-worn, but favorite, red leather boots, as I forced myself to look calmly into his steely eyes.

* * *

 _The night I had my first paying gig was a night I'll never forget. For a couple of reasons. For one thing, I had actually earned money for doing what I loved, what I knew was my destiny. It wasn't a lot, but that wasn't the point. In my mind, it meant that everything I'd done up to that point had been worth it. I had felt so good when I'd stood up on that stage and sang my songs. Deacon was right there with me and that gave me so much more confidence. It was late when we left, and since I had school the next day, he drove me straight home._

 _The other reason it was so memorable is that it was the night Daddy kicked me out of the house. He was out of town, I thought, but turned out he was not. He told me that if I was going to keep doing this, I couldn't live in his house. I'm pretty sure he thought I'd give in, but I didn't. I just took all the suitcases that were in the foyer and took them out to my car. And then I sat there, not sure what to do next. Finally I started the car and headed down the drive. I turned right onto Lynwood and followed it out to Harding Pike. Then I made a right and drove towards Tandy's apartment. I really hoped she was home._

 _###_

 _She was not. I had no idea where she was or when she might be home. For all I knew, she'd be out all night. But I locked up my car and sat on her doorstep, waiting. At first I cried. Then I got mad. Then I cried some more. I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there, when she finally came up the stairs, her arms full of books. She stopped and stared at me._

" _Rayna? What are you doing here?"_

 _I looked at her a moment, then my face crumpled as I started crying again. "Daddy kicked me out," I sobbed._

 _She rushed up to me and sat down beside me, laying her books on the floor. "What?" she asked, her face all screwed up._

" _He told me…he told me I couldn't sing…anymore," I said, choking on my tears. I wiped my eyes, trying to calm down. "He told me if I did, I couldn't live there anymore."_

 _Tandy frowned. "I don't understand. What happened tonight?"_

" _I had a gig. A paying gig, Tandy. And when I came home, he had all my suitcases packed and in the foyer. And he told me I couldn't come back." I grabbed her hands. "Can I stay with you? For now?"_

 _She let go of my hands and pulled me into an embrace. "Of course you can." She rocked me a little, just like I remember Mom doing. Finally she pulled back and stood up. "Come on, let's go inside." I got up and followed her into her apartment. She set down her books and went into the kitchen and fixed us some tea. "How long were you sitting there, sweetheart?" she asked me, as she put tea bags in mugs._

 _I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I got home about ten. We were the early set. Deacon dropped me off and when I went in the house, Daddy had everything in the foyer."_

 _Tandy frowned. "Who's Deacon?"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "The guy I told you about. He's been helping me with my music." I couldn't help smiling just a little. "And he's my boyfriend."_

 _Tandy sighed. "Oh, Rayna. I'm sure that pissed Daddy off too."_

 _I made a face. "It did. But I don't care. Daddy doesn't run my life."_

" _Well, sweetie, you_ _are_ _sixteen."_

" _Sixteen and a half."_

" _Okay, sixteen and a half." She narrowed her eyes. "You aren't having sex are you?"_

 _I gasped. "No! Of course not."_

" _Good." She took the kettle off the stove and started pouring water into the mugs. "So what are your plans now?" She handed me a mug._

 _I took the mug and stood at the counter, dipping the tea bag up and down. "I don't have any plans. Other than to keep singing."_

 _Tandy picked up her mug and headed for the couch. I followed after her and we sat, facing towards each other. "What about school?"_

 _I sighed. "I can still go. If I have to." I didn't really want to though. It just got in the way of working on my music._

" _I think you should."_

 _I rolled my eyes again. "What good is it going to do me? I'm going to be a country music star and I don't need school for that."_

" _Well, you don't know what's going to happen in the future."_

 _I frowned. "Don't try to talk me out of this, Tandy. Don't be like Daddy." Tandy raised her hand up, as if in surrender, and dropped the subject._

 _###_

 _The next morning, I left the apartment as though I was going to school, but came back after I knew Tandy was gone. I let myself back in and went to sit on the couch. I picked up the phone and called Deacon. I had forgotten how early it was until I heard him groan when he answered._

" _Deacon, I'm sorry. I forgot it was early," I said._

" _Who the hell is this?" he growled, sounding out of it._

 _I bit my lip. "It's me. Rayna."_

 _He coughed. "Oh, God, Rayna, I'm sorry. I was just dead asleep." He cleared his throat. "What's up?"_

 _I felt tears behind my eyes and blinked hard. "Daddy kicked me out last night," I said, my voice shaky._

" _What? Where are you?"_

" _At my sister's. She has an apartment by Vanderbilt."_

" _I thought he wasn't home last night."_

 _I sighed. "Turns out he was. And when I came home, he had all my stuff packed up and waiting for me." I took a deep breath. "I'm not going back, Deacon. I'm ready to start my career."_

* * *

"Damn, baby!" Deacon said, with a laugh, as I told him the story that night at our favorite bar, while we downed shots of whiskey. "See? I told you. Just stand up for yourself."

I giggled. I was a little tipsy, both from the whiskey and from my power move today. "I thought I was gonna throw up right on his boots, babe," I said. "That could have gone all kinds of wrong, you know?" I tossed back another shot and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, snickering. "You should have seen Bucky and Watty. I swear their faces were white as snow. I was pretty sure one of them was gonna rush over and say 'sorry, Dan, Rayna's lost her mind today'. I think Dan was pretty shocked too."

He leaned in and, putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me towards him, kissed me. I opened my mouth to his and our kiss got intense. He slid off his bar stool and put his other hand around my waist, pulling me off my stool and in tight against him. I moaned in my throat as I felt him hard against my stomach. He pulled his lips away from mine and moved them to my ear. "God, baby, I need you," he whispered raggedly. "Right now."

I looked up into his eyes, dark with desire. I lightly bit my lip and then turned. He grabbed my arms and pushed me forward, as I giggled. We ended up in one of the small bathrooms. I was still laughing, until he pushed up my skirt. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a little mussed and my eyes were partly closed. Deacon was tight behind me, his eyes gazing into mine in the mirror. He snaked his arms around my waist and then, pulling my t-shirt out of the waistband of my skirt, slid his hands up to cup my breasts. I moaned and then gasped as he entered me roughly.

###

I tucked my t-shirt back into my skirt and smoothed my hair. Then I looked back in the mirror, where Deacon was looking back at me, a little satisfied smile on his face. I smiled back at him. "God, I love you, babe," I said.

He turned me around to face him and pulled me into his arms, brushing my lips with his. "I love you too, baby." He pushed my hair off my face on one side. "Let's go home."

###

Deacon walked back into the bedroom with two beers. I smiled as I watched him. God, he was gorgeous, I thought as he approached me, still naked. He smiled and, kneeling on the bed on one knee, he handed me a beer. I took a sip as he set the other one on the bedside table and then crawled back under the sheets. He propped himself up with the pillows, then picked up his beer and took a long swallow. I took another sip, still very buzzed from all the whiskey shots, then set it down on the floor next to me.

I ran my hand down his arm. "I had fun tonight," I said, smiling at him.

He took another swallow of beer and then kissed me. "Night's not over," he said.

I slid over a little closer to him. "Good."

He finished his beer and then put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. "I got some news to share too, Ray," he said, looking down at me.

"Really?"

He nodded. "I got someone who's gonna produce my album."

I sat up. "You did?" I was confused. "I didn't think people normally just produced an album…."

He was grinning wickedly at me. "That's true. But I got a deal too."

I jumped on my knees. "Oh my God, Deacon, really?" I threw my arms around his neck and he hugged me. I sat back and looked at him. "With who?"

"Well, it's just a little indie label. White Horse. Nothing like what you got. They'll produce the album and shop it around, but it's something."

"Oh, Deacon, that's amazing! We'll both have gold albums before we know it!" I threw my arms around him again and kissed him. Before too long, we were back under the covers, celebrating the way we always did.

* * *

 _I was sitting at Tandy's little kitchen table, working on a song, when she came home earlier than I'd expected. She looked surprised at first, then narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?" she asked._

 _I stared back at her. "Aren't you?" I asked in return._

 _She came over and dropped her books on the table, sitting in the chair across from me. "Rayna, we talked about this. You're supposed to be going to school."_

 _I shrugged and looked down at my notebook, doodling a little in the margin. "I hate school. I have no friends and I don't really see the point." I looked back up at her. "I don't care what Daddy says, I'm going to work on my career. I don't need high school for that."_

 _Tandy sighed. After a moment, she clasped her hands together in front of her and leaned towards me. "The thing is, Rayna, if you're going to stay here, you need to go to school."_

 _I sat back and looked at her, a little surprised. Then it dawned on me. "Did Daddy call you? Did he tell you to do this?"_

 _She didn't respond to that. "Sweetheart, just finish high school. If you don't want to go to college, you don't have to. Your dreams will all still be there after high school."_

 _I frowned and then pushed back from the table, standing up. Tandy looked up at me. "If you don't want me to stay here, just say so. I'll go somewhere else."_

 _She reached out for my hand, but I snatched it away. "Sweetie," she said. She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Where would you go?"_

 _That was a really good question. What I said to her was totally a lie and wishful thinking on my part. "Deacon said I could stay at his apartment."_

 _Tandy frowned and shook her head. "Oh, I don't think that's a good idea."_

" _You don't even know him, Tandy."_

" _Babe, all he'll do is take advantage of you."_

 _I gasped. "How dare you!" I screamed at her. And then I turned and grabbed my purse, heading out the door. She called my name as I left, slamming the door behind me, but I ran down the stairs and got in my car, speeding out of the parking lot. I could see her through my rear view mirror, but I kept going. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I drove. I finally pulled into a convenience store and went to the pay phone. The phone rang twice before Deacon answered. "Deacon, it's me," I said, my voice shaking._

" _Rayna? What's going on?"_

 _I took several deep breaths, trying to keep from crying. "I can't stay with Tandy anymore. Can I stay with you?"_

 _He was silent, for so long that I thought maybe he'd hung up. Finally he said, "Are you sure?"_

" _Yeah. Maybe just for a couple days, until I can figure something else out." What that would be, I had no idea, but I knew I couldn't stay at Tandy's any more than I could stay at Daddy's._

" _Where are you now?" I told him the cross streets. "Stay in your car. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."_

" _Thanks, Deacon," I whispered._

" _It's okay, baby. Just wait for me in your car."_

 _###_

 _When he pulled up next to me, I jumped out of my car into his passenger seat, throwing my arms around his neck. "Thank you," I cried, clinging to his shoulder._

 _He pulled me close. "It's okay," he said. Then he sat back. "Do you want to go now or do you want to go get your things?"_

 _I looked into his eyes, those sweet, soulful eyes. "Can we just go now? We can go tomorrow and pick up my things. When Tandy's at class."_

 _He nodded. "You want to follow me?"_

 _I nodded and then got out of his truck and back into my car. As I followed him across town, I felt myself let go of the tension. I felt safe with Deacon and I knew he'd look out for me._

 _When we got to his apartment, he waited for me to get out of my car and then he took my hand and we walked up the steps together. He hesitated just a moment before he opened the door. "I'm sorry it's not real clean," he said, looking a little embarrassed._

 _I smiled at him. "It's okay." He unlocked the door and let me walk in ahead of him. I tried not to let my surprise show. When he'd said "not real clean", he'd really underestimated it. It was horrible. But I reminded myself it was a guy's apartment and I tried to not focus on it. Maybe tomorrow I could clean it up, as a thank you._

 _He looked sheepish. "I told you," he said._

" _Don't worry about it."_

 _He took a deep breath. "I just have one bedroom, so you can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."_

" _I don't want to put you out like that, Deacon. I can sleep on the couch."_

 _He shook his head. "I may be, what did your dad call me? Riff raff? Anyway, I do have manners. I'll sleep on the couch." He took a deep breath. "I'm not gonna take advantage of you, Rayna. I promise."_

 _I smiled and hugged him. "Thank you. I just appreciate you letting me stay here."_

 _He put his arms around me and ran his hand over my head. "You can stay as long as you like."_

 _This was a big step, for me, for our relationship, for the future. I knew at some point, if I stayed here, I'd have figure out just what was next for us. But for now, I felt safe, and that was what was most important._

* * *

Everything didn't go as smoothly as we'd wanted, for either of us. Deacon was frustrated with the producer he was working with. They didn't see eye to eye on much and spent a lot of time arguing over the sound of his guitar or the arrangement he'd chosen. More often than not, the producer wanted something a little twangier than what Deacon had in mind. I understood why he was so pissed. Deacon's songs were beautiful and he always made everything sound amazing, which was one reason I had enjoyed working with him so much. Trying to make him something he wasn't was just a recipe for disaster.

But Deacon wasn't very patient in those days and he got tired of feeling like he was being pushed around. The arguments got worse as time went on. The producer threatened to quit on more than one occasion. Deacon would storm out of the studio, headed for the nearest bar. Too many times, he'd fuel the flames with his drinking buddies, Vince and Cy.

I didn't understand why, instead of facing up to things, he'd just step away when things got hard. But it had always been his way. There had always been those times when I couldn't help him, when he'd pull so far inside himself that he may as well have walked out of my life. These days, though, alcohol got him through them more and more often. Shots of whiskey or even a bottle would be his companion. Too many times, now, I would find him passed out, if not at home, at a bar or in his truck. I liked Vince and Cy, but I was starting to get pissed at how often they led Deacon down this dangerous path. It had started to scare me, but if I brought it up all it did was start a fight.

Things were stressful for me too. I had finally taken a little of the advance money and Deacon and I had found me a good, reliable used car, so at least I had my own transportation when I needed it. I was spending more and more time at the studio, laying down tracks. I hadn't realized how mind numbing it could be to record the same verse ten times. And then ten more. Dan never seemed satisfied and more than once I'd have a little meltdown, thinking I would never get this right. And then there was the fact that Deacon and I couldn't go out and perform together, or run the risk of ruining my whole contract deal.

Deacon and I were fighting all the time. If it wasn't about my late nights, it was about his drinking, or him leaving his clothes on the floor or me using up all the hot water. The bad part was that we weren't making up the way we usually did. It wasn't unusual for us to go to bed mad, with him facing one side of the room and me facing the other, not even touching each other. I hated this. After all the struggle and heartache of trying to make it in this business, we seemed to be on the verge of finally getting what we wanted, but we couldn't stop fighting long enough to enjoy it.

Finally, one Saturday, it dawned sunny and warm. The weather had been awful for the last two weeks, raining and overcast practically every day, which hadn't helped our moods at all. We had fought again the night before. I was late, Deacon was drunk. Glasses were broken. We'd gone to bed and had angry sex. And then I had cried, and Deacon had gotten mad about that.

So I was a little surprised when he came up on me in the kitchen that morning, as I was waiting for the coffee to brew, and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the neck. He breathed in and pulled me in closer. "I'm sorry, baby," he said. "I don't wanna fight with you anymore."

I sighed, but didn't turn around. "Me either," I said. I loved him, but this was starting to wear me down.

"Let's go to the park or something," he said.

I finally turned around and looked at him, leaning back against the counter. Damn, he had those puppy dog eyes. "Write with me," I suggested.

He reached for me. "You got a starting place?" he asked.

I put my arms around his neck. "Your love, it does something to me, it sends a shock through me, I can't get enough," I whispered.

He brushed his lips against mine. "And if you wonder, about the spell I'm under, it's your love," he responded.

I smiled. "I think we got something there."

###

We _did_ have something. It turned into something really lovely. I think my favorite verse in the whole song was one that Deacon came up with as he wrapped me up in his arms and made love to me. _It's a beautiful thing / Don't think I can keep it all in / And if you asked me why I changed / All I gotta do is say your sweet name._

When we finally finished, we curled up into each other and just talked about our hopes and dreams. We hadn't done that in a long time. Back in the days when I'd first come to live with Deacon and we really had barely enough money to make rent, we used to talk at night about what it would be like to be in front of thousands of people in arenas and stadiums, singing our hearts out night after night. And all the places we wanted to go and things we would do. But it had been a while since we'd done that. It was like life had gotten in the way and we were just pushing through, just trying to make it.

Deacon hugged me close and kissed my cheek. "What's your big dream, baby?" he asked me.

I sat for a moment and thought about that. Then I looked up at him. "I want a house on a lake. A big white house, with a big porch. Lots of bedrooms and lots of windows that look out over the water. I want us to have a family there and sit on the porch, you and me, and sing to our kids. And just be happy. For the rest of our lives."

He kissed me on the forehead. Then he looked at me, his face serious. "I'm going to buy that house for you, Ray. It'll be the place we'll live in for the rest of our lives. I promise."

 _ **The song Rayna and Deacon wrote was "It's Your Love" by Tim McGraw.**_

 _ **A/N: If you're reading this, would love it if you let me know what you thought.**_


	9. Chapter 9

I had a day off from the studio, while Dan was working with a different artist. It felt good to sleep in, especially because Deacon was next to me. When I woke up that morning, I turned to face him. He was lying on his side, his head propped on his fist. He was smiling at me, his eyes crinkled at the edges. For as long as we'd been together, he could still send that tingle all the way from my head down to my toes, with just a look, and I found myself blushing a little, feeling a shyness that seemed silly. "Hey," I said quietly.

He reached his hand over and ran it down my arm. "Hey, baby," he said. "I thought maybe you'd like to go to the studio with me today."

Deacon had been working on his album for several weeks and I knew he was feeling frustrated. They had told him he had to put the album together in four weeks and, with all the difficulty he'd had with the producer, it had been a rough go. I tried not to talk so much about my experience, which had been so different from his. I didn't have to try to make a song perfect in two or three takes. I didn't have that same short deadline, although I knew Dan wouldn't let it go on forever. And Deacon still needed to come in and lay down his guitar and vocal tracks. But his album came first. We had both agreed. I smiled at him. "I would love to," I said. I was excited to get the chance to see him at work. Plus I hoped it might calm him down a little and take away some of his tension.

###

Deacon led me into the control room. A heavy set guy with a long, messy beard and a slightly greasy ponytail looked up at us. He didn't look very friendly, but I tried to smile anyway. He almost scowled at me. Deacon ran his hand up and down my back, more to calm himself down than me, I thought. "Ace, this is Rayna," he said.

I could have sworn the guy practically sneered at me. "Yeah?" he said.

"Can she sit here and listen?"

Ace shrugged. "She can do whatever the fuck she wants," he said, dismissing me and turning his attention to the sound board. "You're late, by the way."

I could feel Deacon tense up. He took a deep breath. "Well, I'm here now, so…."

Ace looked back up, a disinterested look on his face. "Let's do it, then. You got your shit ready?"

"Yeah."

"Get set up then. I'll let the guys know you're here." Ace hit an intercom and loudly said, "The talent's here. Let's get a move on. Time's a wastin'."

Deacon squeezed my hand and gave me an apologetic look. "Good luck, babe," I said with a smile. I didn't like the disrespectful tone Ace used and I didn't think I actually liked him at all. I could understand why this experience was stressful for Deacon and I started to appreciate more my own experience. Randy was a good producer and he treated me respectfully, even though he was tough. Ace was just a jackass.

I watched Deacon walk out into the studio and take his guitar out of the case, getting set up. The session musicians came in to set up and I felt better as I watched them greet him with warm smiles, handshakes and back slaps. His friend Vince was one of them and, even though I thought Vince encouraged him down a bad path sometimes, I knew they were close and that it probably made Deacon feel more at ease.

As I stood there, I sensed Ace looking at me. I turned towards him and just raised my eyebrows. He took a beat and then he just shrugged and turned back to face the studio. He leaned into the mic. "Let's get going, y'all," he snarled. "Ain't got all day for you ladies to have a tea party."

Deacon caught my eye as I scowled. He knew me so well and he knew I was probably ready to say something to Ace and he gave me a look that said "don't", so I didn't. But I felt bad that this was what he had to put up with. I listened as they ran through the instrumentals, thinking they sounded really good. I'd been so busy myself that Deacon hadn't had a chance to play everything he'd written for the album for me, so this was new. They ran through the entire song once, then Ace had them redo a handful of sections. Then they ran through two more instrumental sets and Ace sent the musicians on their way.

Now it was Deacon's turn to lay down his vocal tracks. I was really looking forward to seeing how this turned out. Ace actually had him start out with two songs that I had already heard, 'Been and Gone' and 'Walk a Mile'. Then he started one I had not.

I loved watching Deacon sing. He had never been one to be able to hide his emotions and those always played all over his face while he performed. I watched him, his eyes closed most of the time, but occasionally looking up at me. I felt that warm tentacle of desire that always swirled through me whenever I heard him sing.

 _I love to watch a woman dance / She bows her head and lifts her hands / Her hips begin to circle slowly / Her eyes have closed; her face is holy / She holds the whole world in a trance / I love to watch a woman dance / Yeah, I love to watch a woman dance_

 _She likes the slow songs of love lost / They take her a million miles away / 'Cause to dream, sometimes, it's the only way / To go places you can't get to any other way / Our eyes connect; she takes my hand / I love to watch a woman dance / Yeah, I love to watch a woman dance_

I was entranced by the song. Deacon wasn't really a dancer, but he would sometimes dance with me. Mostly at home, but once in a while we might do it when we were out together, usually early in the evening. It was usually to some slow song, and that's what this reminded me of. His eyes connected with mine and I knew it was for me.

 _I feel my heart beating, and I wonder / Will it ever satisfy? / I'm gonna hold on to you for as long as I can / 'Cause who knows, this dance may be our only dance_

 _So we danced together, close and slow / So slow we're almost standing still / Her warm breath against my neck / Slowly breaking down my will / The room spins so I can barely stand / The song ends; then, she lets go of my hand / There's so much I don't understand / I love to watch a woman dance / Yeah, I love to watch a woman dance_

When he finished, I realized I'd been holding my breath. It was such a lovely song. His eyes were still locked with mine and I could see all his emotions. But of course, then Ace had to ruin the moment. "Okay, dude, we're done today," he said. Then he shut down the board and pushed up from the console, lumbering out of the control room with barely a glance my way.

I continued to stand there, letting the song wash over me. Deacon packed up his guitar, then left the studio and came into the control room. He took my hand. I still felt a little breathless. "That was beautiful, babe," I said softly.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek. "It was for you," he said.

###

We left the studio and headed for the bar we usually went to, near the apartment. The mood that had been created by that song was still hanging over us as we drank shots of whiskey. Then Deacon pulled me into his arms and leaned into my ear. "I love to watch you dance," he whispered.

* * *

 _That first night I hardly slept a wink. First of all, Deacon's bed really wasn't all that comfortable, plus the sheets were scratchy. Not like my nice soft sheets at home. I tried not to think about how long it might have been since he'd washed these. I rolled over onto my side and buried my face in the pillow. It smelled like him, but also a little like booze and sweat. I rolled to my back again. Ugh. That wasn't really all that pleasant. I definitely needed to wash these if I was going to stay here longer._

 _I hadn't brought anything with me, so Deacon had let me wear one of his t-shirts. It was a Merle Haggard t-shirt. Deacon had told me Merle was his country music hero. Merle and Johnny. I couldn't argue with that. Classic country. The best. Anyway, the shirt was super-soft and it made me feel like I was all wrapped up in Deacon. It hung down past my thighs, but I left on my panties anyway. Still, it made me feel all tingly to be almost undressed, sleeping in Deacon's bed, with him just on the other side of a closed door._

 _It had been sort of weird after he brought me here. He was all stiff and formal, so not like Deacon. It made me giggle a little, because I was pretty sure he was trying to behave and honor his promise not to take advantage of me. I thought about that. I had been letting him go to second base for a while now and I really liked it. It sort of intensified all those strange and wonderful sensations I had, feeling his hands on my breasts or his mouth on my nipples._

 _He always seemed kind of withdrawn afterwards though, like it wasn't enough. For him anyway. I knew about going all the way. I'd heard girls talk about that. Lots of girls at school went to third base, but I wasn't exactly sure what was different about that. A couple of girls bragged about going all the way, but no one knew for sure if they really had. But it scared me. I was sure I wanted to do that with Deacon, but I didn't know how to talk to him about it. I wasn't sure I was ready anyway._

 _I was really hoping this worked out. Because if it didn't, I don't know what I was going to do._

* * *

Just when I thought things were getting better, the bottom seemed to fall out. Deacon was increasingly frustrated with his recording sessions and more often than not, he'd go out and get drunk afterwards. We were fighting again, mostly over his drinking. But I was also getting more and more concerned about it. Whenever things got tough, he'd get drunk and he'd pull away from me. More than once, he'd stayed out all night, which scared me. I'd sit up waiting for him, wondering if something had happened to him. Then when he did get home, we'd fight.

I'd really started to wonder if he had a serious drinking problem. One that needed a more serious solution. I thought back to Beverly's words to me, that in taking him on I'd chosen a life of pain and disappointment. I knew he was frustrated with how things were – my being signed to a record deal as a solo act, his experience working on an album of his own, feeling disconnected from me – but I didn't really understand why he felt the need to cover it up with alcohol and pull away.

What I did know for sure is that it was exhausting being in a relationship with someone who couldn't control his drinking. Deacon had always been a drinker, but over the years we'd been together it had gotten worse. One of the things I knew about him was that he had deep, dark demons that seemed to chase him. He didn't like to talk about his past, about his childhood, about the things he and Beverly had had to deal with growing up, so I didn't really know how to help him. If I tried to get him to talk about that, he'd get angry and then pull away.

He'd had issues with being unreliable because of his drinking and now it seemed to be escalating. Just when it seemed that life was looking up for us, he seemed determined to tear it down. I knew he'd gone to recording sessions drunk and on at least one occasion that I knew of, he'd missed a session completely. I wanted to help him, but I wasn't really sure how. All I could do was try to keep him safe and love him. And try to keep him from self-destructing as much as I could.

When he'd finally finished his album, I had hoped things would even out. At first it seemed to improve his mood, not having to deal with Ace and all the tension. He'd started laying down his guitar and vocal tracks for my album. But then he went out one night with Vince and Cy and as I dozed on the couch, waiting for him, I was startled awake by the phone. As I picked up the receiver, I noticed on the clock that it was after two.

It was a recording that started "This is a collect call from the Cheatham County jail from" and then I heard Deacon's voice say his name, sounding thick with liquor. My heart sank. I pressed one to accept the call, feeling like I had a huge boulder in my stomach. "Deacon?" I said softly, my voice shaking.

"Ray," he said. "I'm so sorry." He said it in a rush and I almost didn't understand him.

I felt hot tears roll down my face. How many times had he said that to me? How many more times would he say that to me? I sighed. "What happened, Deacon?" I asked.

"I wasn't driving, I promise," he said, speaking slowly so that he didn't slur his words together. "It was Vince." He paused. "Will you come get us?"

I pulled my knees up to my chin and laid my head down. What a mess. "No," I said.

"No? Why not?" He sounded a little belligerent then.

"I'll come get _you_ , Deacon. Not Vince." I didn't know what to do with this. I wasn't sure I was strong enough for this. I didn't want this to become my life, but I couldn't abandon him, that I knew for sure.

"Baby, please," he pleaded.

"Just you."

And so it began.

* * *

 _Deacon took me to Tandy's the next day to get my things. I had hoped she wouldn't be there, but she was. The minute I walked through the door, she grabbed me. "Rayna, where the hell have you been?" she cried. Then Deacon walked into the apartment behind me and she froze. She dropped her arms and stepped back, looking over her shoulder. "So you're Deacon?" she asked, her voice chilly._

 _I turned to look at him. He nodded, his face guarded. I looked back at my sister. "Just keep it to yourself, Tandy," I warned._

 _Tandy clenched her jaw and looked at me, then back at Deacon. "I will not," she said. "You're staying here with me, Rayna."_

 _I shook my head. "No, I'm not. All you're gonna do is try to talk me into going back to Daddy's house and I'm not doing it." I put my hands on my hips and glared at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Deacon smirk slightly. "I'm going to be a country music artist and nobody's stopping me."_

 _Tandy stood there, fuming. She jerked her head towards Deacon. "And that's who you're going to do that with? Really?"_

" _I'll take care of her," Deacon said, frowning._

 _Tandy threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, you'll take care of her alright. You'll ruin her. She's just a child, sixteen years old. You'll destroy her before she's even had a chance."_

" _I'm not a child!" I cried. I turned to Deacon. "Help me get my things. I'm out of here." I pushed past Tandy and Deacon followed me. He got my heavier suitcases and I got the rest. Deacon headed out the door and I stopped to face my sister, whose face was a mix of sadness and anger. "I don't want us to fight, Tandy," I said. "But I have to do this. And I want to be with Deacon."_

 _Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks and she brushed them away. "I worry about you, babe," she said. "I know Mom would want me to look out for you and I just, well, I worry. You're so young. I don't want him to take advantage of you."_

 _I felt my anger melt a little. "It'll be okay." I took a deep breath. "I love him, Tandy. And he loves me." I didn't know that to be true, but I hoped it would help her let go a little._

 _She looked away from me, the tears still coming. "That's what I was afraid of," she said, her voice cracking. She looked back at me. "I think you're both too young to know what love really is. So if it doesn't work out, I'll be here. You know that."_

 _I nodded. "I do. But I'm right about this." She put her arms around me. I dropped the bags I was carrying and hugged her back. "Don't worry," I whispered._

" _I can't help it," she whispered back. Then she let me go and stepped back._

 _I gave her one last hopeful smile and then picked up my things and walked out the door. As I came down the steps, I saw Deacon leaning against the truck, waiting for me. When I walked up to him, he took the last of my bags and put them in the truck. Then he took me in his arms and held me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning into his shoulder. "Come on, baby, let's go," he said._

* * *

We got past the night in jail. That time. Although Deacon wasn't driving, he did get into a fight, but after paying a fine, the charges were dropped. But it wasn't the last time it happened, unfortunately. Or the last time I had to go drag him out of a bar. Or pick him up somewhere because he was too drunk to drive. Or passed out, so he _couldn't_ drive.

Every single time, Deacon told me how sorry he was. With those puppy dog eyes and a little glisten of tears, it was hard to stay mad at him. And then when he took me in his arms and he kissed me on the neck and the cheek and the lips and said, again, how sorry he was, I started to feel that telltale heat. And then he would touch me in those secret places, those places he knew set my blood on fire, and I would let him tell me yet again how sorry he was as he made love to me.

I hated the sweaty, pukey smell of those nights, the bloodshot eyes, the slurred words. I hated myself for letting those kisses and touches and whispered endearments pull me back, when what I really wanted was to not have to deal with it anymore. But I also loved Deacon Claybourne beyond measure. Almost from the moment we had met, he'd been part of me. I could no more truly let him go than I could stop breathing. So I stayed and I did my best to keep him safe and alive.

###

I really wanted that album to help him feel like he could overcome his demons. He was so proud, when it was done and pressed. He brought it home and we listened to it over and over again. It was so damn good and I was so proud of him that I cried. My album was going more slowly, but there was a lot more money at stake, so Dan wanted it to be perfect. But no matter how much money went into making it, I knew Deacon's was perfect too.

After we'd listened to it for about the twelfth time, I let Deacon pour me another shot of whiskey and I smiled at him. "I love it so much, babe," I said. "It's just so amazing. I think my favorite songs are the ones you wrote for me. 'A Life That's Good' and 'I Love to Watch a Woman Dance'. It's all pretty perfect, but those are the best."

He pulled me in close and kissed me. Then he looked at me, love filling his eyes. "I wrote 'em all for you, baby," he said. "Every one of 'em. They're all about you. Every song I write is about you."

###

It turned out that Deacon's record deal was not much more than just a deal to produce an album. White Horse didn't have much money, influence, or clout in Nashville or with record distributors or radio stations. He knew that when he agreed to the deal, but I think he really didn't understand what it all meant, nor did I. And Deacon wasn't the best at self-promotion. He got angry too often when he felt he was being disrespected or ignored. What he really needed was a manager.

He still did solo sets around town. Usually I would go with him, but one night my recording session ran really late and he went without me. I went home afterwards and was already in bed when he got home. I woke up when he crawled into bed, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck. I giggled a little and wrapped my arms around his. "I think I found a manager, baby," he whispered.

I turned in his arms, reaching up to take his face in my hands. "Really?" He nodded, a smile on his face. "Oh, babe, that's so great. How did it happen?"

"After my set tonight. This woman came up to me and told me she could help me establish my career."

I pulled back a little. "A woman?"

He grinned and kissed me. "Ain't no woman can top you, baby. But she's legit. I asked around. She's pretty new in the business, but she's had success with new artists and she thinks I can crack this."

I still wasn't thrilled about a woman managing Deacon, but then I had Bucky managing me, so I guessed it was kind of the same thing. "Who is she?"

"Her name's Marilyn. Marilyn Rhodes." He rolled me over on my back and laid on top of me, kissing my neck and my lips. "She said she thinks I could be huge, Ray," he whispered against my lips. "And she wants to help me get there."

I made a mental note to ask Bucky about this Marilyn Rhodes and then Deacon touched me right in that place that made all coherent thought fly right out of my head.

###

I forgot to ask Bucky about Marilyn, but I got to meet her myself the next night. Deacon was playing another local spot and she sat next to me at the bar. I don't know how I knew it was her, but I wasn't surprised when she started a conversation with me. She nodded towards the stage. "That your boyfriend up there?" she asked, smiling pleasantly.

I glanced towards Deacon, up on stage, and smiled back at her. "Yeah, it is." I looked her over. She was wearing jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of well-worn boots. Her dark brown hair was lightly curled and settled on her shoulders. She had honey brown eyes and an attractive smile. She seemed maybe a little older than Deacon, but it was hard to tell for sure. She was pretty, but not in an overtly sexual way. I felt a little better.

She extended her nicely manicured and ringed hand. "I'm Marilyn Rhodes. I heard Deacon last night and I think he's really got something special. He told me he just finished an album, but has no radio or distribution support. I see a lot of young artists make that mistake, think they can do an album and then they'll be a star, but it's one of these low budget labels that can't or won't support their artists." She smiled again, a warm, genuine smile. "I can help him. I've got lots of contacts and I can get him a nice regular spot on a hot night and get some buzz generated around him. I've got radio contacts that I can hook him into also."

I was impressed. "Wow," I said, raising my eyebrows. "That sounds like just what he needs." I leaned towards her. "His album really is good."

She looked at me a moment. "Yeah, it is." She sat back and looked me over. "He told me you have a recording deal. With Dan Eagle at Edgehill Republic."

I nodded. "I do. Deacon's doing guitar and vocals with me."

She smiled. "I'm thinking he may not have time for that before too long. I think I can make him a top selling artist, on his own."

"I would love that for him," I told her.

She got up from her stool and put a hand on my arm. "It was good to meet you, Rayna." And then she was gone. As I watched her walk off, I realized I had never actually told her my name.

###

I finally remembered to ask Bucky about Marilyn a few days later, because Deacon had a meeting with her that night. I was at a late dinner with Bucky and Dan and when there was a lull in the conversation around doing the video for 'Notice Me', I asked. "Buck, do you know Marilyn Rhodes?"

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly. "Yeah, I do. Are you shopping other managers?"

I shook my head and smiled at him. "Oh, no, of course not. But she's interested in managing Deacon, so I wondered what you knew about her. I met her the other night and she seems to have a good plan."

Dan frowned at me. "Don't let Deacon anywhere near her," he said, somewhat forcefully.

I was surprised at that. "Why not?" It sort of annoyed me, considering Dan wasn't at all interested in Deacon as an artist. Why would it matter who managed him?

"She's bad news, Rayna," he said.

"She can deliver on her promises," Bucky chimed in. "Most of them, anyway. But there's a string attached to signing with Marilyn."

I frowned. "What kind of string?"

Bucky looked uncomfortable and Dan jumped in. "She only manages good-looking male artists under the age of thirty. And they have to, well, grant her favors, or she's not interested."

I made a face. "Favors? Do you mean she sleeps with them?"

Dan shrugged. "They sleep with her, is really a better way to put it. If the guy doesn't sleep with her, she won't rep them."

I gasped. "Oh, my God." I felt a cold chill run up my spine. I was sure Deacon wouldn't do that. Or would he? He wanted a career the same as I did. Would he be willing to give her what she wanted? I felt sick to my stomach. I was sure I knew him better than that, that he would never do that to me. But I couldn't help but worry a little. All of a sudden I had a really bad headache.

###

Deacon wasn't home when I got there. My stomach was in a knot as I sat on the couch and chewed on my fingernails. I couldn't sit still, though, and I jumped off the couch and went into the kitchen. I opened one of the cabinets and got out a bottle of whiskey. I poured myself a shot and downed it quickly. Then I poured myself another and downed it as well. I stood there, breathing deeply around the burn down my throat, my eyes tearing just a little, both from the whiskey and the anxiety and fear.

"Damn it, Deacon," I whispered to myself. Then I had another shot. Finally feeling a little less antsy, I went back to sit on the couch and wait.

Maybe a half hour later I heard a truck come roaring into the parking lot and screech to a halt. I was afraid to get up and look out the window to see if it was Deacon. I heard a door slam and then shortly after I heard heavy footsteps come up the steps. I held my breath. When the key hit the lock, I breathed out, wondering what had happened. Deacon walked in, a dark scowl on his face. He saw me on the couch and looked surprised for only a moment.

"Ray," he said.

I swallowed hard. "How'd it go?" I croaked out.

His face went dark again and he shook his head. "It didn't." He came and sat next to me, breathing in and out as though he were trying to control his temper. Then he looked at me, sadness in his eyes, and took my hand, holding it tightly. "I ain't signing with her."

I was holding my breath and couldn't breathe out yet. "You're not?" I managed.

"It ain't worth it. Not for what she expects as payment." He took a deep breath and I finally managed to let mine out. Then he leaned in and kissed me. "If that's the only way I can be on my own, I don't want it that bad."

Tears started trickling down my face. "But don't you want your own career?" I asked, my voice low.

He shook his head. "Not if I had to hurt you to do it." I closed my eyes and let the tears come. He pulled me into his arms and kissed my cheek, my closed eyes, my lips. "Don't cry, baby," he said quietly. "Please don't cry." He paused. "Look at me." I took a deep breath and then I opened my eyes. He took my face in his hands and wiped at my tears with his thumbs, then gave me a small smile. "If I gotta stand behind you on stage for the rest of my life, that's what I'll do. I won't ever hurt you to get a deal. Ever." He brushed my lips with his. "I love you, Ray. You're my whole life. You and me, Ray. That's all it's ever gonna be."

The tears were still coming, but I smiled as I leaned in and kissed him. "That's all I ever wanted to hear," I said.

* * *

 _I'd been at Deacon's apartment for two days. I found out he had a part-time job busing tables a couple mornings a week at Hermitage Diner, which was how he was really able to afford this small apartment. While he was gone, I decided I would clean up. It was the least I could do, since he was letting me stay here. He had tried to straighten up, but it was clear he was no housekeeper. So I drove to the closest grocery store and picked up cleaning supplies. When I got back, I started with the kitchen._

 _Three hours later, I started on the bedroom. I had sorted out his clothes as well as the bed sheets and towels and gone to the laundry room in the complex and started the wash. I went back to the apartment and started working on the rest of the bedroom. I organized his closet and dresser so that I could put my own things away. It was when I was going through those drawers that I found the napkin from the Bluebird. I almost threw it away but then I saw that there was writing all over it._

Two arms around me, heaven to ground me / And a family that always calls me home / Four wheels to get there, enough love to share / And a sweet sweet sweet song / At the end of the day, Lord I pray / I have a life that's good

 _I didn't think I'd ever heard him sing these words. I frowned as I kept reading._

Sometimes I'm hard on me / When dreams don't come easy / I wanna look back and say / I did all that I could / Yeah at the end of the day, Lord I pray / I have a life that's good

 _I wondered when he'd written this. Clearly it was sometime after he'd come to Nashville, since it was a Bluebird napkin. It was a really pretty song. I'd have to ask him, so I left it on the top of the dresser, and continued working around the room._

 _By the time he got home, I'd moved the wash to the dryers and then collected that, folding and putting everything away. I was putting the sheets back on the bed, when I heard the key in the lock and the door open._

" _Rayna?" he called out._

 _I walked out of the bedroom, a pillow in my arms. I smiled. "Hey."_

 _He smiled at me. "Hey." Then he looked around, a confused look on his face. "What you doing?"_

" _Cleaning." I winked at him. "This place was a mess."_

 _He blushed a little. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm really not much for cleaning."_

 _I shrugged. "It's okay. It felt good to be useful."_

 _He walked over and, putting his hands on my arms, leaned in and kissed me. "Well, thank you. Uh, I'm gonna take a shower." He headed in that direction._

" _There's clean towels in the bathroom," I called out after him._

" _Thank you, Rayna," he responded, laughter in his voice._

 _When I heard the water running in the shower, I went back in the bedroom and finished making up the bed. Then I went out to the kitchen and got two bottles of beer out of the fridge and then sat on the couch, putting the beer on the coffee table. When he finally came out of the bedroom, with just a pair of jeans on and his hair damp, I struggled to breath. I thought I was going to die from the gorgeousness of him._

 _He looked at me, that little crease running down between his eyebrows. It was then that I noticed he had the napkin I'd left on the dresser in his hand. "Where did you find this?" he asked._

" _Um, I was straightening out the drawers in there and it was lying on top of one of your shirts. I thought it might have been important." I was worried he was mad, but he didn't seem like it._

 _He came and sat down next to me, laying the napkin on the table and picking up a beer. He took a long, deep swallow. I felt that peculiar warmth rise up inside me as I watched him. He seemed to sense I was doing that and when he lowered the bottle from his mouth, he looked at me and smiled._

 _I nodded towards the napkin. "Is that a song you were working on?" He looked a little guarded, but he nodded. "What's it about?"_

 _He took a deep breath, his eyes filled with emotion. "You," he said quietly._

 _That surprised me. "Me? When did you write it?"_

 _He cleared his throat and took another swallow of the beer. "The night Watty introduced us."_

 _Then I remembered. When I was singing, he was scribbling on a napkin. "You didn't even know me then," I whispered._

 _He gave me that puppy dog look. "I know. But I knew, right then."_

" _Knew what?" I could hardly get the words out._

 _He finished the beer and set the bottle down. He turned towards me and he breathed in. "I knew you were the one," he said._

 _At first I couldn't say anything. My heart was beating so hard, I was afraid he could hear it. My mouth went dry. He leaned in and kissed me, ever so gently. I gasped and then reached up to put my hand on his face. I looked into his eyes. "I love you, Deacon," I said._

 _He put his hand on the back of my neck and leaned forward to kiss me again. Then he touched his forehead to mine. "I love you too, Ray," he said. Then he sat back, a deep sadness in his eyes as he looked at me. He sighed, working his lip. He looked away for a moment, and that scared me. Then he looked back. "I don't know if it's a good idea for you to stay here," he said finally._

* * *

We never talked about Marilyn Rhodes again. Deacon never actually told me she'd made sleeping with her a condition of signing him, but I didn't need him to tell me that. I didn't tell him what I'd found out about Marilyn either. Since it was obvious that he'd not taken her up on it, it didn't really matter. It hurt me to see his disappointment and disillusionment, though. He'd worked hard on that record and put his soul into it and now it felt spoiled somehow.

I was sad that his album never charted and that sales were not great. Maybe he could have found another manager, someone with integrity, that would have made him a star, but after that experience he just settled into being my guitar player and back up. Eventually I made him my bandleader and, to me, he was as much a part of my success as I was. I always told people that there would be no Rayna Jaymes if there hadn't been Deacon Claybourne, and it was true. He made me better in every way, both personally and professionally, and I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. No matter what life threw our way.

 _ **The song in this chapter is "I Love to Watch a Woman Dance" by The Eagles.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: This chapter will get fairly explicit, so just a word of warning. Or anticipation, whichever way you look at it.**_

"Bucky, I'm not going to make it in today," I said, when I called him. "I'm really feeling bad."

"You do sound really congested," Bucky said. "Allergies?"

"Must be. And I've got a wicked headache. And my whole body aches." I cleared my throat. "I'm really sorry. I hate to screw things up, but I just want to crawl back in bed and die."

"Well, I'm sure Dan won't be thrilled, but I'll take care of it. And you take care of you," he said. "Tell Deacon to go get every over-the-counter thing that's out there."

I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered. "I will." And I hung up.

None of what I'd told Bucky was really a lie. I sounded congested because I'd been crying all night. My eyes were so swollen, I could hardly open them, all from crying. I had a wicked headache for the same reason. And my body ached from sobbing so hard. I really did want to crawl back in bed and die. Because I had no idea where Deacon was, if he was even dead or alive. He'd been gone since early Monday morning, supposedly to go fishing with Vince, and hadn't been back since. I had no idea even where to look. I had no idea where they were going fishing. I'd already driven to the bar he and Vince usually went to and there was no sign of them. I didn't know what to do. I was trying desperately not to let my mind go to all those worst case scenarios.

He'd never been gone this long before.

###

When the phone rang, I jumped up from the couch. I must have dozed off, because I felt groggy and unfocused on top of everything else. I could tell it was late afternoon, the sun low in the sky. For a moment, I couldn't even remember where I was. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs and then raced for the phone. "Hello?" I nearly shouted into the receiver.

"Is this Mrs. Claybourne?" The woman's voice seemed crisp and professional.

I swallowed hard. "Um, yes, yes it is," I murmured. Had he told her that? "Who is this?"

"This is Catherine Moody at Stonecrest Hospital emergency room. Your husband is Deacon Claybourne?"

I sat down hard in the chair. He was in the hospital? What the hell happened? "Yes, yes, Deacon. Is he okay?" My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my head.

"Apparently he was in a car accident sometime yesterday and they were just found today and brought here."

I could scarcely catch my breath. "Is he okay?" I repeated. Maybe she hadn't heard me ask.

"He's very banged up. He has a concussion and a nasty cut on his leg. Plus he and his friend were in the car overnight, so he was dehydrated and disoriented."

Tears were rolling down my face. "Wh…where is the hospital?" I whispered.

"We're in Smyrna." She paused. "He's okay to go home," she said, her voice softening. "Do you want to come pick him up?" I nodded, unable to speak. "Ma'am?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry," I said, choking back a sob. "I'll be there as soon as I can." I put my elbow on the table and put my face in my hand. "Wait, what's the name of the hospital again?" I asked.

"Stonecrest. We're right off 24 East on Stonycrest Boulevard. I'll let him know you're on your way."

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you." I hung up the phone and wrapped my arms around my waist and bent forward. I breathed in slowly, trying to calm myself down. I was relieved he was okay, but I was so angry I felt sick to my stomach.

###

I didn't leave right away. I figured he could sit and wait. If he and Vince had been so stupid as to drive drunk and get into some kind of accident that meant no one found them for a day, I wasn't going to break my neck trying to get down there. As each minute passed, I got madder and madder, and for a brief second I even considered not going. But I washed my face and changed my clothes and found a map at a convenience store. I sat in my car, figuring out on the map how to get to this hospital, and then I headed for the highway.

When I got to the hospital emergency room, I parked the car. It was a small hospital in a pretty rural area a ways out of Nashville. I knew Deacon and I had been down in this area before, playing at some local joint, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember a place name. I sat in the car for a few minutes, getting madder by the second. But I needed to be pulled together when I went in, so I took some deep breaths to calm my nerves.

Finally I got out of the car and walked to the emergency room entrance. I walked up to the front desk. A pleasant looking older female nurse looked up when I approached. She smiled. "Hey there. Can I help you?"

I put a fake smile on my face. "I got a call that Deacon Claybourne was here?" I said, my voice calm.

The nurse looked down at the paperwork on the desk, then back up at me. "Yes, ma'am. You're his wife?"

I nearly rolled my eyes. I figured the only way they would let me come get him was if they thought we were married, so I guessed that's why Deacon told them I was his wife. "Yes," I said, with my fake smile still in place.

"This way," the nurse said, gesturing me to follow her. I walked around the desk area and fell in step with her. "He was in a lot of pain, but he's conscious now. We gave him a painkiller and got him something to eat and drink and that's helped a lot." I was just nodding as I walked with her. She looked over at me with an understanding smile. "He was worried that you were worried about him." _I'll bet he was._ "I know he's ready to go home."

We stopped at a curtained off area and the nurse pulled the curtain aside. I saw Deacon laying on the bed, his face bruised and cut, a bandage around his right hand and the right leg of his jeans slit up above his knee to reveal a large gauze bandage on the front of his leg under his knee. I swallowed hard, relieved he wasn't any worse off. When he saw me, his eyes got sad and he had that little boy look he got when he felt hurt, physically or emotionally.

The nurse patted my arm and left me there. I watched her walk away, then turned back to Deacon. His eyes were filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Ray," he started.

I took a deep breath, anger rising like bile in my throat. "What the hell happened, Deacon?" I asked, not moving from where I stood at the end of the bed.

He shook his head a little. "I'm not exactly sure," he said. "Me and Vince were headed back home and we stopped to get something to drink." I rolled my eyes. He frowned. "I'm not sure what happened then, but I guess Vince drove off the road into a ditch."

I walked up to stand next to him. He reached for my hand, but I stepped back one step. "Don't touch me," I hissed.

He dropped his hand and looked like he might cry. "I'm sorry, Ray. I swear."

I clenched my fists. "You're always sorry, Deacon. And yet, here we are." I tried not to raise my voice, which was hard, considering how furious I was with him. I closed my eyes and waved my hand at him. "Look, let's just get you out of here. We'll deal with this later." I turned and walked back towards the front desk. The nurse looked up at me. "What do I need to do to take him home?" I asked.

She smiled. "We've got his discharge paperwork all ready. You'll just need to go down there" – she gestured down the hall – "to the cashier to settle up." She handed me the paperwork. "There's a prescription in here too, for painkillers, should he need them."

I'd be tearing that up. I smiled and nodded. "Thank you." I walked back to where Deacon was and he was already out of the bed, just standing there. I looked at him and just shook my head. "Let's go."

* * *

 _I was stunned. Surely I didn't hear that right. "What?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper._

" _I don't wanna mess up your life, Rayna," Deacon said, his eyes filled with pain. "You deserve a lot better than someone like me."_

 _I just looked at him for a moment. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Finally, I said, "I don't understand. If we love each other…."_

 _He shook his head. "We're from two different worlds, Rayna. You don't belong in this place, a crappy one bedroom fleabag apartment. I seen where you come from and this, well, this ain't it."_

 _I frowned. "I don't want to go back where I came from, Deacon. Don't you understand that? I want to be here, with you, doing this."_

 _He looked so sad. He reached out and took my hand. "You're so young. You should wait before you get into all this…."_

 _I snatched my hand back. "Did Daddy get to you?" I demanded, furiously._

 _He shook his head. "No. He didn't. This is me, telling you this. I don't want to be the one that screws up your life."_

" _How would you be the one to do that? When I want to be here? When I want to do this?" I got up from the couch and started to pace the room. I stopped and turned to look at him. "I don't have anywhere else to go. What am I supposed to do?"_

 _He looked up at me, sorrow still filling his eyes. "You can stay with your sister," he said._

" _I don't want to stay with Tandy!" I shouted. I felt panic rise up my chest. I had no idea what I was going to do, if he kicked me out too. I scowled at him. "Well, if you don't want me here, I guess I'll just go find someplace to stay. Or I'll stay in my car."_

 _He jumped up and came to stand in front of me, looking concerned. "Don't do that, Rayna," he said._

 _I put my hands on my hips. "What else am I supposed to do? Daddy said I couldn't live at home if I was going to pursue my career. Which I am. And now you don't want me here." I burst into tears._

" _Hey, now," Deacon murmured, grabbing my arms. "It's not that I don't want you here." I looked up at him, confused. "I told you. I don't want to mess up your life."_

 _I just looked at him for a long moment. Then I sighed. "I love you, Deacon. I want to be with you. I want us to sing together and write songs together and work on our careers together. I want to do everything with you, don't you see that? I was just going through the motions before I met you. Now I feel like my whole life has started fresh." I dropped my arms to my side. "I don't want to do this without you."_

 _He stood looking at me, with those beautiful eyes that seemed to see all the way into my soul. I could see that his resolve was breaking down as he stared at me. Then, suddenly, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. As he tugged at my lip and I opened my mouth to his, I reached my arms up and wrapped them around his neck, leaning into him. His hands ran over my back as he kept kissing me. I couldn't get enough of him._

 _Finally we pulled our lips apart, breathing heavily. I threaded my fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. I looked into his eyes and saw my future there. "Make love to me," I whispered. "Please."_

* * *

Deacon followed me out to the car, not saying a word. When we had gotten in and closed the doors, I thought I was going to pass out. He smelled sour, like stale whiskey and sweat. I started the car and let the window down. Before I put the car in gear, I took a deep breath.

"Rayna," he started.

I looked over at him. "I don't have anything to say to you right now, Deacon," I spat out at him. He got that hurt look in his eyes, looking down and then out the passenger window. I shook my head, then headed out of the parking lot.

Thankfully he knew better than to speak to me on the drive home. As I drove back to Nashville, a wave of emotions rushed over me. Relief he was okay, anger that he'd let this happen, fear that this might happen again, only worse next time. I could feel my headache coming back, as I thought about having to go through this again. I wasn't sure I could do it. This really wasn't how I'd planned to live my life.

When we got back to the apartment, I got out of the car and stormed across the parking lot. Deacon trailed behind me. I could tell he was struggling a little coming up the steps, but I forced myself to keep going and not help him. I wanted to crawl into bed and cry. I was so afraid for him, for me, for us.

I threw my purse down on the kitchen table and then turned to watch him come in. He was limping and he looked miserable. There was a small part of me that wanted to go take care of him, but I was so angry that I couldn't make myself care. When he shut the door, I let loose. "What the hell were you thinking, Deacon?" I shouted. "How could you let this happen?"

He looked at me pitifully and spread his hands wide. "I don't know, baby. We stopped someplace just to have a couple beers and, you know, time just got away…."

"Stop!" I cried, shaking my head. "Just stop!" He took a deep breath as he stared at me. "Don't you get it, Deacon? I thought you were dead! You've been gone for well over twenty-four hours! I had no idea where you were or even how to find you. I had to lie to Bucky about why we weren't coming into the studio today." All of a sudden I burst into tears, the fear and terror taking over. Deacon walked over to me, trying to take me in his arms, but I pushed him back. "Don't! I'm so mad at you right now. I can hardly even look at you."

He looked miserable. "I'm so sorry, baby," he murmured.

I raised up my arms and then flung them down again. "I don't want to hear 'I'm sorry' one more time, Deacon. You have to stop this. You have got to stop drinking. Don't you get it?" I looked at him.

He nodded. "I do. I promise, I'll stop. I promise, Ray."

I put my hands over my face, the tears still coming. I didn't think he could do it and I didn't know what to do to help him. He tried to reach for me again and I stepped back. "Please don't," I sobbed. "I can't do this right now." I put my hands down and looked at him. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?" I asked. "Do you?" He just looked at me, not knowing what to say. I sighed. "I'm going to bed. You can sleep out here." I breathed in. "We have to be at the studio tomorrow. So I need you to be sober. Okay?" He nodded. Then I turned and headed for the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

###

I changed into a t-shirt and gym shorts and crawled into bed. It had been a long day and I was exhausted. But after everything that had happened, I was too wired to immediately go to sleep. I could feel tears soaking my pillow and finally I felt some of the anger leave me. I realized how terrified I'd been, how out of control the situation had felt. And then, deep down inside me, I realized I'd never asked how he felt or checked out his injuries. I was grateful he was okay and alive, but I didn't really know what to do. Nothing in my life so far had really prepared me for this.

I heard the door open. I stiffened. "I can't do this right now, Deacon," I said, not turning to look at him.

He was quiet at first. Then he said, "I know. I just wanted to take a shower."

I nodded. "Okay." I heard him shuffle into the bathroom, then shut the door. The light came on and I turned the other way to keep the light under the door from getting in my eyes. I could hear the water turn on and I lay there, breathing deeply, as I listened to his shower. I could hear some groans and I assumed it was from his injuries.

I just wanted him to be okay. To be the Deacon I remembered back when I first met him. When he was loving and gentle, not like this. Not angry and hurt and chased by demons.

He was in the bathroom for a long time. When he finally came out, he stood at the open door for a moment. "I'm sorry, Ray," he said, quietly. "I really do promise I won't let that happen again."

I didn't turn to look at him. "I can't do this again, Deacon," I said. "I don't ever want to be that scared again. The thought of losing you… I just can't do it."

He came and sat on the edge of the bed. I looked up at him and, in the light from the bathroom, I could see the pain in his eyes. "I don't ever wanna hurt you like that again, baby," he said. "I get that I scared you. And I don't wanna do that again."

I sat up, pulling my knees up to my chest. I looked into his eyes. "I couldn't bear it, Deacon. I just really couldn't." I felt like I couldn't breathe as I stared at him. I loved him. In spite of everything, I loved him. I wanted to believe in him. I wanted him to be strong, for him and for me. For us. As though he could hear my thoughts, he dropped the towel he had in his hands and leaned forward to kiss me. At first the kiss was gentle, not much more than a brush across my lips. But then he tugged at my lip and he reached for me, his hands at my waist. And then I opened my mouth to his and put my hands on his shoulders and let him kiss me and kiss away my anger.

He pushed me back against the pillow and moved to stretch out next to me, not taking his lips off mine. I put my arms around his neck and pulled him on top of me. And I let him touch me and promise me with his body that he wouldn't do this again, that he'd be better, that he would always be there to love me. And because I wanted that so badly, I let myself believe it.

* * *

 _Deacon put his hands on my arms and pushed me back. I could see a touch of fear in his eyes. "You're too young," he said._

 _I frowned at him. "No, I'm not. There are girls at my school who've gone all the way and were younger than me. I love you, Deacon. I want to be with you." I bit my lip. "Are you saying you don't want to be with me?"_

 _He tilted his head back and breathed out. Then he looked back at me. "Rayna, I'm not saying that at all. I just don't want you to get hurt," he said, sadness filling his eyes._

 _I pulled away from him. "I don't understand. I am not who you think I am. I'm not a pampered princess or a spoiled little girl. I didn't belong in Belle Meade. Those aren't my people. They've never been my people. Those people make fun of me." I looked at him pleadingly. "You don't. You accept me just like I am. You believe in me." I sighed. "I_ _need_ _you, Deacon."_

 _He took a deep breath. "I do know you're not a pampered princess, Rayna. That's not it at all. I just don't want you to make a mistake you regret. I don't want to hurt you."_

 _I looked away. "The only way you'd hurt me is if you left me. Or if you really didn't want me." I looked back at him. "If you really don't love me, just tell me."_

 _He put his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. "Baby, all I really wanna do is take care of you and love you and be everything you want me to be. But what if I'm not? What if I can't do it? What if I'm not good enough?"_

 _I put one hand on his arm. "You are good enough. I already know that." I felt tears in my eyes and blinked them back. "Please give us a chance," I whispered._

 _He stood looking at me, sadness and want and hope all mixed up together in his eyes. Then he reached for me and pulled me into his arms, kissing me insistently. I slid my arms around his waist and leaned into him, returning his kisses hungrily. When he finally pulled his lips from mine, he looked deep in my eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked._

 _I nodded. "As sure as I've ever been of anything in my life," I said. In truth, I was a little scared. Not that Deacon would hurt me or be a mistake, but because I really didn't know what to expect. But I was sure Deacon would be careful with me._

 _He took my hand then and led me towards the bedroom. Just inside the door, he stopped and kissed me again, holding me close. Then he pulled back a little and said, "If you get scared or you change your mind, it's okay. Just tell me. Okay?"_

 _I nodded. But I was sure I wouldn't change my mind. And I was going to get past any fear I had. I was going to let him take care of me._

 _We sat on the edge of the bed and he took off his boots. Then he turned to look at me and he took my hand in his. "We'll go slow, okay?"_

" _Okay." He reached up and pushed my hair back off my face, then leaned in and kissed me very gently. I felt tingles race up and down my body. His kisses grew more insistent and I found my hands moving to his waist, pulling closer. Almost before I realized it, we were lying on the bed, facing each other. He smoothed my hair back and then started kissing me again._

 _I could feel butterflies in my stomach, but they were good butterflies, anticipation filling me up. He slid closer to me, running his hand up and down my back. And then he moved closer, close enough that I could feel that he was anticipating this too. I moaned deep in my throat, almost without realizing it. He took his lips from mine and rolled me onto my back, propping himself on his elbow next to me._

 _He ran the back of his fingers over my cheek, his eyes dark with desire. I caught my breath. He let his hand drift down to my blouse and he slowly unbuttoned each button. Then he pushed both sides down and laid his hand on my stomach. I could scarcely breathe and I felt little tingles racing up and down my body, then zeroing in between my legs, in that warm, confusing way. I bit my lip just slightly as I watched his face. He was looking down at my chest as he reached for the clasp of my bra between my breasts. He fumbled just slightly, then I felt it spring open and he pushed my bra aside, his fingers touching my breasts lightly as he did._

 _I was breathing hard. I couldn't help it. And another moan escaped my lips. Deacon looked at me, then leaned down and kissed me. "You okay?" he whispered. I just nodded. I couldn't speak._

 _He ran his thumb over my nipple and I thought I was going to explode. I closed my eyes and moaned. This felt so good. The waves of pleasure were swirling inside me and I started to lose myself in all the amazing sensations. True to his word, he took his time, gently caressing my breasts until I could hardly stand it any longer. "Oh, God," I moaned, over and over._

 _He leaned down and kissed me on the lips, then trailed his mouth down to my neck, just below my ear. "I'm gonna take off your shorts," he whispered. I nodded. I felt his hand move down over my stomach and then slide under the waistband. This was the first time I felt a little nervous. This was the unknown. But I concentrated on the warmth of his hand as he slowly moved it down to rest right between my legs. That strange, but intoxicating sensation started to move through me. I heard myself make little noises, almost like I was out of my body._

" _Oh, Deacon," I murmured, as he let his fingers trail over me ever so gently. I could feel my hips moving, in time to his movements. I felt a shot of heat run through me and I started to lose myself in the feelings. I could feel his fingers increasing the pressure, and suddenly I felt a dampness that felt both strange and nice. Then very slowly, almost without my realizing it, I could feel something sliding inside me. Sliding in and out until I started to feel a pulsing sensation and I moaned over and over._

 _I wasn't really sure what had just happened, but I did know it was one of the most amazing feelings I'd ever had. I was struggling to regain my breath and then Deacon leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. "Was that good?" he asked, his voice thick._

 _I opened my eyes to look into his. I was struggling to breathe, but I smiled and nodded. I didn't know what he'd just done to me, but I liked it, and I wanted him to do it again. I felt like I was in a dream I didn't want to wake up from. I could feel him slide my shorts down my legs and then he slid his hand under my back and lifted me slightly so he could remove my top and bra. Then he laid me back on the bed and took in a quick breath, biting his lip. I was completely naked and I was worried he was sorry he'd done this. "Is…is something wrong?" I choked out._

 _His eyes refocused on mine and he shook his head. "No, baby. You're just so beautiful."_

 _I felt a quiver run through me at his words and I felt shy, all of a sudden. He bent down over me and kissed me again, lightly running his hand up and down my side. I lifted my arm and wrapped it around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I really didn't want this to ever stop._

 _But it did, as he got up off the bed. He started to undress, not taking his eyes off me, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I was having trouble breathing as I watched him pull off his shirt and toss it aside. Then he reached down and pulled off his belt, then unbuttoned the button at the top of his jeans. He started to lower the zipper, then stopped. He got that little crease between his eyebrows. "You sure?" he asked again._

 _I couldn't form words, so I just nodded. As he continued with the zipper, I closed my eyes for a moment. I remembered Tandy telling me about her first time, that it hadn't been all that special, that it had hurt a little bit. But Tandy hadn't loved that guy. I was sure that made a difference. When I opened my eyes, Deacon was completely undressed and I could see he was also completely aroused. I thought I'd be scared the first time I saw a naked man. I'd looked at pictures in one of Tandy's sex how-to books and it hadn't looked sexy at all. But Deacon didn't look like those drawings in the book and instead of being scared, I felt aroused too._

 _He knelt down on the bed, beside me, then stretched out next to me. I could feel him, hard against my thigh. I felt a liquid warmth seem to slide down through my body. I started to breathe hard. This was really gonna happen. He reached out and ran his fingers down my arm, then over my stomach and up to my breasts. I moaned as he leaned over and ran his tongue over my nipple, then sucked on my breast. I turned slightly towards him and ran my fingers through his hair. He kept his mouth on my breast and put his hand on my waist, pulling me a little closer._

 _I couldn't stop moaning and I found myself moving my foot up and down his calf. He slid his hand over my hip and placed it on my ass, pulling me even closer. He was pressed against the top of my thigh and I felt myself start to quiver with anticipation. Then he lifted his head and found my mouth, kissing me greedily. My hips seemed to move against him without my being aware of doing it. Then he dragged his lips from my mouth and looked deep into my eyes. "I'm gonna go really slow," he said softly. "Tell me if you don't like something." I nodded._

 _He rolled me over onto my back and laid on top of me. For a few minutes, we just kissed, and I felt myself relax. I could feel him, but he was taking his time, making me feel comfortable, and that just made me want him more. Finally I felt him start to press into me. I tensed a little. "Just relax," he whispered against my lips, and he stopped, kissing me on my lips, my neck, my cheeks, my nose, and back to my lips. He reached between us and ran his thumb over my nipple and I began to lose myself in the pleasurable sensations. I felt the pressure as he pushed into me and then a moment of pain that ebbed soon after._

" _Deacon, I love you," I whispered into his ear, as I felt him moving inside me._

" _I love you too, baby. So much," he said, his voice thick with desire. I had prepared myself for this not to feel good, but it did. And it also was intoxicating. He was true to his word and he was gentle with me and, very quickly, I found myself responding to him, meeting his rhythm. Afterwards, he held me and kissed me softly and kept asking if I was okay. We slept next to each other that night, just holding each other. The next morning, we made love again and it was easier and there was no more pain, and it felt perfect and right. Tandy was wrong. This was very, very special._

* * *

I woke up the next morning, thinking about the night before, and smiled to myself. I felt like Deacon and I were on the same page again, that he understood just how scared I'd been and that he meant it when he said he'd do better. But when I turned over, he wasn't there. I closed my eyes. _No. Please no._ My stomach churned. I sat up on the edge of the bed and fought tears. Then I reached for the t-shirt Deacon had tossed off the bed in the heat of our lovemaking and pulled it over my head. I walked out of the bedroom and my knees nearly buckled in relief.

Deacon turned to look at me from the kitchen and smiled. "Mornin' sleepyhead," he said, holding up a mug of coffee. "I was just coming to wake you up."

I walked over and just put my arms around his waist and leaned into his shoulder. I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, but I willed them away. I breathed in deeply, loving his intoxicating smell. Then I leaned my head back and smiled up at him. "I love you, babe," I said.

He put the mug down, then slid his arms around my back and kissed me. "I love you too, Ray," he said. Then he turned serious. "I don't ever want to disappoint you again. I promise I won't."

I just nodded and leaned back into him. I believed in him and I believed he meant that. But I did still find myself saying just a little prayer that he could do it.


	11. Chapter 11

My album was finally finished. At least the recording part of it. Now they would do all their magic to make it into something that could go on store shelves and get sent to radio stations. They put "Notice Me" on a single CD that was being sent to country stations all across the US. It gave me the chills and at the same time made me feel just a little nauseous. It was actually real.

Deacon managed to stay mostly sober while he laid down his tracks. At least he didn't get shit-faced drunk and definitely didn't end up in a hospital or a jail cell. The cuts and bruises on his face and arms healed pretty fast. The cut on his leg took longer to heal, but at least there didn't seem to be a scar. I hadn't been letting him go out with Vince, so that helped a lot. I really did like Vince a lot. He was funny and sweet, but he drank even more than Deacon did, it seemed like, and when the two of them were together they really didn't know how to stop.

We'd been out one night, with Vince and his girlfriend of the moment, and we'd both had a little more to drink than we should have. For some reason, when I was with Deacon and there was drinking, I didn't mind it as much as when he wasn't with me. I had still had to drag him home, but instead of being mad at him, I was drunk enough to find it funny. It wasn't so funny the next day when I woke up to a banging in my head. After a minute, I'd realized it wasn't just my head, it was someone knocking at the door, but when I moved to sit up, I fell back, a little nauseous.

Deacon and I were all tangled up in each other and the sheets. I nudged him and he groaned. "Deacon," I whispered, trying not to move my aching head. "Someone's at the door."

"They'll go away," he growled.

The knocking continued. "They're not," I said. "Please?"

He turned to look at me, a dark scowl on his face. "If we don't answer, whoever it is will leave." I frowned at him and then he rolled his eyes. "Shit," he murmured, and then he untangled himself from me and rolled out of bed. He seemed to be unsteady on his feet and reached out to steady himself against the wall. After a moment, he stood up and then grabbed his jeans from the top of the dresser and put them on, cursing under his breath.

He walked out of the bedroom as the knocking continued. "I'm coming, you son of a bitch!" he shouted. I heard the door open. "What the hell is it?" he was saying.

I heard Bucky's voice. "Hey Deacon, sorry to wake y'all up, but I've got big news. Is Rayna up?"

I was scrambling to get out of bed, but couldn't find my clothes close at hand, so I finally just grabbed the sheet and pulled it around me. "This better be good, waking us up like this," I could hear Deacon saying, still angry, just as I walked to the doorway.

I really felt like I could throw up right then, but I took a deep breath trying to calm my rolling stomach. I tried to smile. "Hey, Buck," I said, with a grimace.

Bucky looked a little embarrassed, seeing as how I was just wearing a sheet. "I'm sorry, Rayna," he said. "I guess I should have called, but this is too big and I wanted to tell you face-to-face."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting. "What's going on?" I asked.

He took a deep breath and then a huge grin crossed his face. "We got a call from George Strait's people. They want you to open for twenty-five dates. Starting in three weeks in Dallas."

Now I really did want to throw up, but it was from excitement. I almost forgot about my hangover as I turned to look at Deacon. His scowl over being woken up was fading into a huge grin and he walked over and grabbed me up in his arms and swung me around. "Oh, my God, Ray!" he shouted. "You did it! You made it!"

I buried my face in his neck and wrapped my free arm around him. " _We_ made it, babe. _We_ made it," I murmured.

He set me down and gave me a big kiss, oblivious to Bucky standing there. "This is _you_ , baby. Watty was right, Dan was right. You're on your way." His smile was so genuine and full of love and pride that I nearly cried.

I shook my head though, carefully, as it was still pounding. "I wouldn't be doing this without you, Deacon," I said to him. "I'm so much better with you than without you." I turned to Bucky. "Deacon goes with me. No negotiation on that."

Bucky nodded his head. "No, we're good on that. Deacon's your lead guitar. But we need to put a band together for you. And Dan's gonna front you a travel bus, because you'll need something bigger than your little trailer." He grinned again. "Congratulations, Rayna. This is really huge and it's going to put you on the map. You'll be in front of a lot of people plus we're working on getting you on radio in every market."

I could feel the tears filling my eyes and spilling over onto my cheeks. I stepped away from Deacon and walked over to Bucky, holding the sheet around me tightly. With my free hand, I reached out and hugged him. "Thanks, Buck, for everything," I murmured, stepping back, a little embarrassed by my lack of clothes. "I couldn't have done this without you either."

He just smiled. "Just doing my job," he said. "Now, I'm gonna get out of here and let y'all celebrate. We'll sign all the contracts and start working on the details tomorrow." He turned and headed for the door.

After Deacon shut the door behind him, he turned back to me, a huge grin on his face. "Damn, baby, this is amazing," he said. I scampered over to him and let him wrap his arms around me, twirling me around again. Then he looked deep into my eyes, his desire flaring up, and he took my hand away from where I was still holding the sheet around me. As it slid to the floor, his breath hitched and he ran his thumb over my bare nipple. I gasped as the little arrows of pleasure shot down my body. After a moment, he moved his hand to my back and pulled me in close. "So, let's go celebrate," he whispered against my lips and then he swung me up in his arms and carried me back into the bedroom.

* * *

 _Living with Deacon turned out to be everything I'd hoped it would be. Being together as much as we were just made us closer. Daddy, of course, was not happy about it when he found out. In fact, that was probably an understatement. I woke up one morning to find my car gone and then found the credit card he'd given me closed. I'd started to panic a little bit, but Deacon assured me we'd make things work. I loved how he tried to take care of me, even though my independent nature chafed against it. I didn't want him taking care of me, I wanted us to be in this together._

 _I was able to get a job waitressing at the Hermitage Diner, where Deacon bused tables, and the manager put us on the same shift, so that we could ride together. We worked three days a week and Saturday mornings. It wasn't easy, because we often had a set somewhere in the evenings and didn't get much sleep. But we were doing it all together and that helped. Between the diner jobs and playing small gigs around town, we made enough to pay for the rent and food and a few extras. But what we really wanted to be able to do was perform more. That was our dream, but it sure did seem slow to happen._

 _But about six months after I'd left home, not long after I turned seventeen, Watty got us a manager, which is what started to turn things around. Actually, the guy did it as a favor to Watty, and our agreement was that we didn't have to pay him until we'd started earning a certain amount from performing. It helped us out, by giving us someone who would spend some time finding places for us to play, and it was an incentive for him to find us gigs._

 _His name was Bucky Dawes and he was an up-and-comer on the management side of things. Watty gave him high marks, which was good enough for us. We liked Bucky, fortunately. He was about ten years older than Deacon, so still young enough to relate pretty well to us. He took the time, even though he wasn't being paid, to talk to us about our dreams. In the beginning, he mostly got us gigs at places where he was already booking his paying acts, but we started to get some traction on our own._

 _We'd developed a small, but loyal, following around Nashville and even further out in middle Tennessee. We marketed ourselves as a duo – Deacon Claybourne and Rayna Jaymes – as I took my mother's maiden name as my stage name. We got a lot of ask-backs at many of the venues where we played. We spent more and more time writing, so that we had a good library of music to play and not the same ten or twelve songs. We'd started getting booked at places in surrounding states – Kentucky, Arkansas, Mississippi. Those were often the toughest, because we couldn't afford motel rooms and we would drive back to Nashville after a show, sometimes having to go to work on only a couple hours of sleep, or even none at all._

 _I wouldn't have changed any of it, though. This was what I'd dreamed of for so long. It was what I'd told Mom I wanted to do, all those years ago – sing country music on stage and make people smile and clap. Standing on a stage, whether it was teeny tiny or covered with wire mesh because it was the lowest form of dive bar, was a thrill, every single time. Sharing a mic with Deacon and pouring our hearts out on stage was the ultimate high. Most of the time, looking into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his body close, made me forget where I was or who we were even singing for. Whether it was a crowd or just a handful of tables, I would lose myself in the music and singing with the man I loved._

 _Singing on stage with Deacon was always a turn-on, for both of us. By the time we'd leave the stage, we could hardly keep our hands off each other. And though Deacon still treated me like a princess, I was so_ _not_ _a Belle Meade princess. I was pretty sure that if anyone back in Belle Meade knew the things Deacon Claybourne did to me – and that I wanted him to do to me – I would have been kicked out of the country club forever and run out to the city limits line._

 _###_

 _Bucky showed up at our sound check one night when we were playing at Robert's downtown. He sat at a table while we finished up and then motioned us over._

" _Hey, Buck, what's up?" Deacon asked, as we sat across from him. I was yawning, but trying not to. We'd had a late night, driving back from a show in Bowling Green and then having to be at the diner at 6 AM. I had wanted to take a nap after we'd gotten home, but Deacon had had other, more enjoyable, plans, so I was exhausted. I was hoping I wouldn't fall asleep at the mic._

 _Bucky leaned forward. "I've got y'all lined up on a little tour of sorts," he said. "Twenty dates in thirty days in the Midwest. Opening for another band I rep, The Rodeo Kings."_

 _I grabbed Deacon's arm. "Oh God, babe," I cried. "A real tour!" Deacon looked at me and grinned. I looked back at Bucky. "This is awesome, Buck. When do we start?"_

" _Next week." He looked at us expectantly._

 _I took a deep breath and looked at Deacon. "We'll probably have to quit our jobs." I looked back at Bucky. "I guess depending on where these shows are."_

 _Bucky shook his head. "You won't be able to drive back. That's another thing. You're going out as far as Iowa, so Watty's loaning you a little travel trailer you can hook up to Deacon's truck. I know motels are kind of not in your budget right now and he thought this would work. It's small, but it has everything."_

 _Deacon squeezed my hand. "We appreciate that. And we can't wait to do this. Thanks, Buck." He reached out and shook Bucky's hand._

 _Bucky smiled. "You deserve it. You two work hard and it shows. You're getting some traction out there and this will get you in front of people who haven't heard you before and that expands your audience." He looked at his watch. "Now, I gotta get going, so you two have a good show tonight." He stood up. "I'll be back in touch with all the details."_

 _As he walked out, we watched him and then looked back at each other. Deacon leaned in and kissed me and we started laughing. "Baby, we're on our way," he said. "We're gonna do this!"_

 _I got up and sat on his lap and threw my arms around his neck. I kissed him as he wrapped his hands around my back, pulling me in close. "I wish this was the end of the night so we could go home and celebrate," I whispered into his ear._

 _He kissed my neck. "We'll just put it all out there tonight and get home as soon as we can," he whispered back._

* * *

At some point, I'd started thinking about days in terms of them being days when Deacon drank and days when he did not. Days when he did not were usually good days, fun days, happy days. We laughed, we talked, we made love, we wrote songs. Even if it was a cold or rainy day, it felt like a sunny day. And I truly lived for those days.

The days when Deacon drank weren't all bad days, but most of them were. Some of them were even horrible days, days when I wasn't sure I could go on. Mostly they were just unhappy days, filled with fights and accusations and weariness. Deep in my gut, I knew Deacon had a problem. A serious problem. But I kept fighting it, kept making excuses for it. But it was tiring to live with a drunk, with someone who many times couldn't control how much he drank. There were many days when he scared me. Not physically scared me, because Deacon never hit me or hurt me physically, but scared me mentally and emotionally. Those were days when I was afraid he wouldn't wake up or that he was already dead. Eventually, if there was a day when Deacon was drinking and I couldn't find him, I would feel a gnawing sense of dread, an overwhelming feeling of stark fear.

On the worst of those days, I'd threaten to leave him. But I never did. Or at least not for more than a couple hours. I was afraid to leave him, quite honestly. I felt like I was the only one that could keep him alive and I was determined to do that. Because, when it was all said and done, I still loved Deacon with every fiber of my soul. I could no more picture my life without him in it than I could get out of bed every morning. He was woven into me, in a way that was hard to describe, much like I was for him. We _needed_ each other and we needed to be in each other's lives.

But there had been more good days lately than bad days. Once we'd gotten the word about me opening for George Strait, Deacon had been really good about making most days good days. And even when he did drink, it was when we were together, and those days weren't as bad.

Because I was going to be making more money on this opener gig, we decided it was time to find something larger than the apartment we'd been living in since I'd first moved in with him. And although the apartment was small and cozy and actually did feel like home, we didn't have enough room to adequately store or display Deacon's growing collection of guitars, plus we had the piano that took up space. We kind of stumbled onto a house for rent, not what we'd originally planned, but it was actually more affordable than a larger apartment. It was a cute bungalow on a quiet street in East Nashville. It was made of stone and had a nice deep porch. There was a lot of dark wood inside, but so many windows that kept it bright and sunny. I fell in love with it immediately, as did Deacon. We decided to rent it, planning to move in when we had a tour break.

"A house, Deacon," I said, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I can't believe we're going to have a house."

He smiled at me and kissed me. "It's like we're grownups, ya know?" he said with a laugh. "Next thing you know we'll have that white picket fence you want."

I smiled. "I could see us living here for a long time. Raising up a family here, even."

He nodded, pulling me closer. "I wanna make all your dreams come true, baby," he said. "Every single one of them."

"You do, babe. And you will. Every single one."

###

We'd never been to an after party until the tour with George Strait. There were no after parties on small regional tours with artists that didn't have large national followings. But for big national acts, these were apparently the norm. And, as an opening act, we were often invited to attend. Bucky tried to get us an invite as often as he could, because there were important record label execs and radio show programmers and industry bigwigs there.

Deacon hated parties. Any kind of party. So I had to plead and beg to get him to go with me. He hated small talk and being nice to people he didn't know. I guess, for me, it felt a lot like those country club affairs and, while I hated that whole lifestyle, I was actually pretty good at small talk and being nice. The one thing I was bad at was remembering names. Deacon was good at that and he would quiz me as we worked the room, feeding me names and associations, so that I could handle the pleasantries. It was just one more way that we were a team.

We were about two thirds of the way through our twenty five dates. I really hoped that when we were done, Bucky would find us another major tour to jump on. This had been so exciting. Even though we went on first, before everyone had shown up, there was still a good-sized crowd and we had gotten some very enthusiastic response. I'd done radio in almost every city and that had gone well too. 'Notice Me' was started to get requested and it got the loudest applause during our set. I knew, the minute we stepped on stage the first night, that this was what I'd been born to do. This was my destiny.

I had been chatting with the local radio programmer and then, when he walked away, it was just Deacon and me. I put my arm around his waist and leaned into his ear. "This is so amazing, don't you think?" I whispered.

He smirked. "For you, it is." Then he smiled. "You really are good at this, Ray. It's like you were made for this kind of thing."

"I couldn't do it without you, though, babe." I felt a hand on my arm and I turned to see Bucky.

"Rayna? George Strait wanted to meet you," he said, a silly smile on his face. I looked behind him and caught my breath. Sure enough, it was George Strait, live and in person. I felt my mouth dry out.

George smiled kindly at me and reached out for my hand. "I just wanted to tell you, little lady, that I think you have a big career ahead of you," he said. "I heard a little of your set the other night and you really do have the voice of an angel."

For a moment, I could scarcely breathe. Deacon pinched my arm. "Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Strait," I finally got out. "And thank you for this opportunity."

George smiled and patted my hand, then dropped it. "Hope you have a good time tonight," he said and then he was gone.

I turned to Deacon, my mouth wide open. He wrapped his arms around me and swung me around. "I think you got the George Strait stamp of approval," he said, kissing me on the cheek.

When he put me back down on the ground, I turned to look at Bucky. "Did that just happen?"

Bucky laughed and nodded. "That just happened." He squeezed my arm. "I think you just got launched," he said. "Now I need to go take advantage of it."

Deacon and I watched him walk off, then turned back to each other and laughed out loud. "God, Ray, that was amazing," Deacon said, pride written all over his face. " _You_ were amazing." He pulled me up against him and leaned into my neck. He kissed me lightly, then whispered in my ear, "I wanna take you back to the room and celebrate."

I felt tingles run through my body. I pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, dark with desire, and my knees felt weak. I brushed my lips against his. "I need you," I whispered. "I can't wait, I need you now." He kissed me hard and then took my hand and pulled me out of the room.

* * *

 _We were home in Nashville for the weekend, which was rare. We were on the road most of the time now, playing someplace different almost every night. We loved it, and loved doing it together, but it sure was nice to sleep in our own bed. Even though our bed was just a regular double bed, it was bigger than the one we had in the travel trailer. I didn't mind sleeping all snuggled up with Deacon, because we really did that anyway, but I liked not feeling like I was going to fall off the bed if I rolled over. That travel trailer had been a godsend though. It had a small kitchenette and a half bath. We had to stop at a truck stop every morning to shower, but we had loved every minute of being out on the road._

 _It was a late spring day and when we woke up, the sun was shining through the curtains. We lay there, facing each other, and Deacon ran his fingers over my cheek. "You're so beautiful, baby," he whispered, looking at me like he couldn't quite believe I was there._

 _I blushed. "I'm sure my hair's all messed up," I said. "And no makeup. I can't be beautiful."_

 _He smiled at me. "But you are. The way the sun is on your face, you're so beautiful. To me." He kissed me then, lightly brushing my lips. "I'm a lucky guy."_

 _I rested my hand on his waist, sliding a little closer. I slid my leg in between his. "I'm the lucky one," I said, smiling at him. I ran my hand down over his hip and then down onto his thigh. He groaned deep in his throat. I leaned in and kissed him on the chest, then ran my tongue over his nipple. He moved his hand down to cup my ass and pulled me firmly against him, so I could feel how much he wanted me. In such a short time, he'd taught me so much about love and loving each other. He'd been patient, and understanding when I needed it, but I had found myself kind of abandoning myself to all the pleasure and the joy that I felt with him. Very quickly we had seemed to become one, so caught up in each other that everything and everyone just seemed to fade into the background. Even though I was young and inexperienced, I knew this was what true love was._

" _God, baby," he growled. "You make me crazy."_

 _I rubbed myself against him and let my fingers play down the back of his thigh. That was all it took and he rolled me over onto my back and he pushed inside me, as I lost myself in the wonderful sensations that were running through my body. I had not realized, that first night we were together, how amazing this would turn out to be. But Deacon and the music and the love were all entwined with each other for me, for both of us. I felt things I'd never felt in my life when I was with him and I knew this was forever. This was my future, I knew it._

 _###_

 _We were all wrapped up in the sheets and each other. Deacon was winding a strand of my hair around his finger, kissing me lightly. I ran my hands over his back and arms, loving the feel of his skin under my fingers and against my bare skin. "I don't ever want to get out of this bed," I murmured._

 _He laughed softly. "We don't have to," he said, kissing my lips. "Ain't nothing better than a day spent loving you."_

 _I smiled at him. "But it's such a beautiful day. We should go out and enjoy it."_

 _He bit his lip lightly, then smiled. "What do you want to do?"_

" _Maybe a picnic? Along the river?"_

" _I think I know just the place," he said, kissing me again, a little more insistently. "A nice, quiet place," he whispered. "Where no one can find us."_

 _I looked at him teasingly. "I like the sound of that," I said. But then I could tell we weren't going to go just yet and I moaned deep in my throat as he slid inside me._

 _###_

 _Deacon was right about the place along the river. He just smiled when I asked him how he knew about it, but it was a secluded little spot along one of the creeks that led to the Cumberland River, out in Cheatham County. There was a nice little cove, shaded by trees, and the only sound we heard was the gentle lapping of the water. Deacon spread a blanket on the ground and we sat there and ate our sandwiches. When we were done, we laid down on the blanket, Deacon spooning me from behind._

" _What do you think about this place?" he asked me, as he ran his fingers lazily up and down my arm._

" _It's perfect. You were right, it's nice and quiet." I turned, then, in his arms, to face him. "This is such a peaceful place. I'd love, one day, to live in a place like this."_

 _He ran his hand over my cheek, letting his thumb graze my lips. "When I was a kid, I lived in a place sorta like this. We lived near a little creek, not as big as this one though. Kind of far off the road and back in the woods. All you heard were birds and stuff."_

 _I smiled at him. "That sounds nice."_

 _He frowned. "Not really. Not like you'd think." He looked troubled._

" _Why not?"_

 _He shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about it. I just didn't have that nice life like you."_

 _I made a face. "Mine wasn't all that nice. That's why I'm not living in it anymore."_

 _He looked at me seriously, then leaned in to kiss me. "Let's not talk about that, baby," he murmured. "Let's just focus on the future. Our future." Then he ran his hand down my side and then pushed up my skirt. I sighed as he slid his fingers inside my panties and then inside of me. I let myself give in to all those pleasurable feelings and then lost myself in him._

* * *

Of course, I should have known that the good days wouldn't last. Especially since I'd let Deacon talk me into including Vince in my band. I hadn't wanted to, but he was a really good bass player and I didn't have a good reason for saying no, except that he was a bad influence on Deacon. Besides, Dan liked him and approved adding him. I'd been able to keep the drinking to a minimum by having Deacon go with me to the radio spots and basically staying close to him. But we were in Denver for a show and Dan got the idea to film part of the video for 'Cumberland Love Song' in Rocky Mountain National Park. We were leaving early in the morning and would be back just before sound check.

Deacon refused to go. I couldn't really blame him, since he wasn't in the video and it would be just a day of standing around with nothing to do. I wanted him to come though, just because it worried me for him to be in Denver all day without me. But I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and start a fight, so I had to trust him. I made him promise he'd be sober for sound check and he swore he would. I tried not to worry, during the ride to the shoot and the long day we spent filming less than five minutes of video. I couldn't get used to the monotony of filming and recording, doing the same thing over and over again. By the time we got in the van to head back to Denver, I was grouchy and had a headache.

###

The bigger headache came when we got back to Denver. When we got to the hotel, Deacon wasn't in the room. I checked to see if Vince was around, but he wasn't. I didn't even know where to start looking. I was in a strange city and I didn't know my way around. I didn't have much time before I needed to be at sound check, but I had to find Deacon. I called Bucky in his room and let him know I had to go out for a bit and would be back in the lobby in time to head to the arena.

When I got out in front of the hotel, on the street, I had no idea which way to go. I was sure they had to be somewhere close. Neither one had transportation, since we all rode on the bus, so I turned left on the road in front of the hotel and started walking, looking for any place they might be. I went in every single bar or restaurant that had a bar, keeping my eye on the time. Nothing. I had to turn back and go in the opposite direction.

As I went in every place and didn't find them, my panic started to rise. He could be anywhere and I might never be able to find him. Someone could beat him up and he could be in a hospital or he could be in jail or he could be passed out somewhere. I was breathing hard, struggling to keep it together. I wanted to cry, but I kept telling myself to stay calm. Finally I had to go back. I could only hope he'd show up at the arena, that he and Vince were somewhere still in control of themselves and would get there on time.

I kept breathing, kept focusing on keeping myself together, breathing deeply. I had to go on stage and perform well, regardless of anything else. _Where the hell are you, Deacon?_

###

I felt like I was going to throw up. Neither Deacon nor Vince showed up for sound check. Dan and Bucky were beyond furious. They were able to negotiate with the other opener to use their lead guitar player. My fiddle player could play bass and we had to make the decision to scrap the numbers we had planned for fiddle. As worried as I was, I was also angry myself. I couldn't believe Deacon would do something like this, in the middle of this tour with George Strait. He knew how important this was, to me, to us. This wasn't the first time he'd missed a sound check, a rehearsal, a show, but it was on the biggest stage we'd been on and I was furious.

I managed to channel my anger into my performance, giving a fierce show for the fans. When I came off the stage, I looked at Bucky, but he shook his head. Now I was starting to get scared. I wasn't sure what to do. We were supposed to leave the next day for Omaha and I couldn't leave Deacon behind. I _had_ to find him. But I had no idea how I was going to do that.

I made the decision to skip the after party and headed back to the hotel. I was going to change clothes and go back out to hunt for him. But when I opened the door to the room, he was laying across the bed, passed out. My first reaction was relief and I wept, thanking God he was okay. But then I got mad and I marched over to the bed and I kicked at his boot.

"Deacon!" I shouted. "Deacon, wake up!" He made a noise and moved a little, but didn't react to me. I reached down and grabbed at his leg and he rolled on his side with a growl.

"What the hell?" he slurred. He looked up at me, taking a minute to focus, and then scowled.

"Where the hell have you been?" I cried out. "You missed the show."

"What?" He rolled over on his back and looked up at me.

"You missed the damn show, Deacon! Where the hell were you?"

He pushed himself up to a sitting position and shook his head, rubbing his face. Then he looked up at me. "Me and Vince, we got bored sitting here so we went out to look around…."

"Do you know how scared I was? I had no idea how to find you!" I stomped around the room. "Damn it, Deacon, I asked you to do one thing. Stay sober. And you couldn't do it. Dan and Bucky were livid. We had to shift things around and borrow a guitar player. Do you have any idea how bad this could have been?"

He looked at me for a minute, then sadness crossed his face. "I'm so sorry, baby," he said. "I didn't mean to…."

I shook my head. "You never mean to, but you do it anyway. Deacon, this is my _career_! You can't keep doing this. I can't keep covering for you." I walked over to the window, my back to him. "Maybe you should go back to Nashville," I said quietly.

I felt him come up behind me and he slid his hands around my waist, pulling me back against him. "I'm sorry, Ray, so sorry. I didn't mean to mess up."

I could hardly stand the smell of stale whiskey coming off of him. It was making me sick to my stomach. I pulled away, turning back to look at him. "You're always sorry, Deacon. And you do okay for a little while and then we're back to this. I don't know how much longer I can do this. I can't let you mess this up for me." He reached for my hand, but I backed away further, shaking my head. "I'm too mad right now, Deacon." I pointed at the other double bed in the room. "I'm going to sleep there tonight. We'll see where we are in the morning."

He took a step towards me, his eyes radiating sorrow and regret. "Please, Ray, don't do that," he begged. "I promise…."

I felt weary and my headache was back. "All you do is say you're sorry and make promises you don't keep. And I'm too tired to deal with this tonight. We'll talk about it in the morning."

It was the hardest thing I'd done so far. Knowing he was just in the other bed was torture for me. I cried silently most of the night, my body aching to hold him, to touch him. But I was also still so angry and so confused and I didn't know what to do. As I finally drifted off into a troubled sleep, I wondered what things really would look like in the morning.

* * *

 _I woke up early. It was still dark. Deacon was laying behind me, his arm draped across my waist, the way we normally slept. I could feel his soft, even breathing on my neck. There wasn't any space between us, his skin tight against mine. I loved this. From the first night Deacon and I slept in the same bed, it was always like this. No matter what the day brought, this was how we ended each night, me tucked into him, feeling loved and safe._

 _This morning, though, I felt sadness. It was Christmas morning. It was the second Christmas I'd spent with Deacon. Even though Daddy acted as though I was no longer part of the family, even though I'd changed my name so that I was no longer Rayna Wyatt, a part of me still missed that family time. It had been a long time since Christmas had been a fun occasion in the Wyatt house, since long before Mom died, but I guess I'll always remember the excitement of Christmas morning._

 _I remember Mom would come wake Tandy and me up. Most Christmases we would be in the same bed. I would huddle with my sister, waiting for our signal to come see what Santa had brought. Mom would lead us downstairs where Daddy would be waiting by the Christmas tree, the lights being the only light in the room. Tandy and I would squeal with joy over all of our gifts and we would spend hours playing with our toys and dolls and games._

 _Later, after Mom died, I wondered how fun those mornings were for her. The last year she was alive I remembered Christmas being an unhappy time, listening to Daddy and her arguing behind closed doors. And after she died, Christmas wasn't the same again. So while I didn't have fond memories of the last few Christmas mornings, it made me a little sad all the same._

 _These days, Deacon was my family. And I was his. We'd bought a tiny fake tree and decorated it. We weren't buying gifts – there was no money for that and we didn't need them anyway. Deacon had bought a plastic mistletoe branch and put it up over the bedroom door. He'd taken every opportunity to get me underneath it so he could kiss me. Not that I minded at all._

 _I took a deep breath, trying not to wake him, but I felt him move against my back, then felt his lips against my shoulder. I smiled as he made a trail of kisses up to my neck. He kissed me just under my ear and I felt a quiver of pleasure run through me. "Merry Christmas, baby," he whispered softly. He slid his hand up to cover my breast and I let out a quiet moan._

 _I lay quietly, feeling his hand trace a lazy trail up and down my body, lingering here and there to give me pleasure. More than once, I caught my breath as a zinger of desire would hit me here or there. I could feel my breathing deepen as his touch got more insistent, and then finally he rolled me onto my back and covered my body with his, and we gave each other the gift we gave every day, not just on Christmas._

 _###_

 _Neither of us were particularly good in the kitchen, but Deacon could make a mean skillet of scrambled eggs and that was our Christmas morning breakfast. We sat on the couch together and laughed as we fed each other, trying not to make a mess. Finally he took our plates and laid them on the coffee table, then pushed me back on the couch and stretched out on top of me, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my neck, as I ran my hands over his back. He kissed me on the lips again, then looked at me. "Let's write," he said. "I feel like writing today."_

" _That sounds good. What were you thinking?"_

 _He seemed to ponder that for a moment. Then he winked. "Something about you and me."_

 _I laughed. "I should have known." That's what it usually was, when we wrote together._

 _Deacon got up off the couch and got his guitar and a notebook. I sat up and then slid down onto the floor, where we usually ended up writing. He sat down next to me and put the notebook down on the coffee table. He looked at me. "Last night, before I fell asleep, I was thinking about when we first kissed. That night you sang 'Notice Me' the first time?"_

 _I nodded and smiled. "I remember."_

 _He took a deep breath. "I could tell you were nervous. I knew I was gonna have to be careful with you. You were all I could think about and I wanted to do it right with you." I reached over and put my hand on his cheek, running my thumb over his skin. "I kept telling myself a kiss was enough. Just a kiss. That you were worth waiting for."_

" _I loved you the minute I set eyes on you. But I was afraid I wasn't experienced enough, that you would get bored with me."_

 _He shook his head. "I knew you were the one right away. You were the one I was waiting on. I didn't want to mess it up, so I went slow." He sighed. "I never had anything before like I had with you. I never opened up like that to anyone before." He cupped my cheek with his hand, breathing in. "I've never opened up to anyone, it's so hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms."_

 _I bit my lip. "But we don't need to rush this. Let's just take it slow."_

 _A smile slowly crossed his face. "Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight."_

" _A touch of fire burning so bright."_

" _I don't wanna mess this up. I don't wanna push too hard." We were smiling at each other as we realized we had something. Deacon started to write everything down as we each threw out lines, some connected to each other, others not. We wrote and rewrote, Deacon eventually picking up his guitar and working through some melody to help us connect the lines together. Finally we felt like we had a finished song and we sang it all the way through._

Lying here with you so close to me / It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe / Caught up in this moment / Caught up in your smile

I've never opened up to anyone / It's so hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms / But we don't need to rush this / Let's just take it slow

Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight / Just a touch of the fire burning so bright / No I don't wanna mess this thing up / I don't wanna push too far / Just a shot in the dark that you just might / Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life / So baby I'm alright / With just a kiss goodnight

I know that if we give this a little time / It'll only bring us closer to the love we wanna find / It's never felt so real / No it's never felt so right

Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight / Just a touch of the fire burning so bright / No I don't wanna mess this thing up / I don't wanna push too far / Just a shot in the dark that you just might / Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life / So baby I'm alright / With just a kiss goodnight

No I don't wanna say goodnight / I know it's time to leave / But you'll be in my dreams / Tonight, tonight, tonight

Oh let's do this right / With just a kiss goodnight / With a kiss goodnight / Kiss goodnight

 _And as we finished, he did just that, laying his guitar aside and pulling me into his arms for a long, slow, hungry kiss. I moved to straddle his lap, my arms around his neck and my fingers pulling through his hair. Almost before I knew it, we were undressed on the carpet, unable to stop the feelings the song had started. It was always this way, the music and the love so intensely entwined, without a bit of space in between._

" _Merry Christmas, baby," Deacon whispered, as we lay together, our arms and legs entangled with each other, our breathing heavy._

" _Merry Christmas," I whispered back._

* * *

I was sitting in the waiting room. I'd been sitting here for over twelve hours. My back hurt from the uncomfortable chair. My head hurt. I felt sick to my stomach. My eyes burned from all the crying. I had a lot to think about and a lot to consider. It felt like the worst day of my life.

###

When I found Deacon, passed out in a bar, at first I thought he was dead. I couldn't tell if he was breathing. His skin looked a little blue. I was hysterical, screaming for someone to call 911. When the paramedics arrived, they'd told me he was alive, but they needed to get him to the hospital. He was unconscious and he still was. At the hospital, they'd pumped his stomach and started an IV. He was on a ventilator. No one could tell me for sure what his prognosis was.

I called Tandy in the middle of the night and she had come to sit with me, until she'd told me one time too many that I needed to end things with him.

"Don't tell me what to do," I said to her, my jaw clenched. "I love him. I need to be sure he's okay."

"Rayna, please," Tandy pleaded. "You don't need this. You've got a career, you're successful, you don't need to be chasing him out of bars every night."

I couldn't look at her. "Get out," I said. "I can't listen to this." She'd reached for my hand and I'd snatched it away, getting up and walking across the room. "Please leave," I said again.

Bucky had come by early in the morning. He wanted to check on me, check on Deacon, and tell me that I'd been nominated for a CMA Horizon Award. On any other day, I'd have been thrilled, but I hardly heard him, hardly even acknowledged it. If Deacon died, it wouldn't matter.

I was in the chapel when the doctor found me to tell me Deacon had regained consciousness, that he seemed to be okay, and would likely fully recover. He did tell me that Deacon was an alcoholic and needed some help. I listened and nodded and thanked him. Then I got up and slowly walked down to the room where he was.

When I walked in the door, he was sitting up. He looked pale and a little out of it, still, but I was so thankful he was alive. He looked at me and I could see the pain in his eyes, the acknowledgement that he knew he'd disappointed me yet again. I'd lost count now of the number of times I'd dragged him home from a bar, or picked him up at a hospital or a jail, or found him passed out in our hotel room. I couldn't let him do this anymore.

I walked over to the side of his bed and took his hand in mine. I squeezed it gently, just so relieved that he was okay. I could feel the tears roll down my face. I leaned in and kissed him and he reached up to thread his fingers in my hair. Then I pulled away and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Ray…." he started.

I shook my head. "No more sorries, Deacon," I said quietly, stopping him. "We need to have a serious talk."

 _ **The song Deacon and Rayna write together is "Just a Kiss" by Lady Antebellum.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**This chapter's a little long, but I hope you won't mind.**_

When I heard the knock on the door, I knew it was Watty. I let him in. Then I walked over to the couch and sat down, not looking at him. "Did he go?" I asked.

"He did." Watty sat down next to me and I looked up at him. He looked not so much sad as disappointed. "I expected him to cause a scene, but he went quietly. He seemed contrite."

I made a face. "I just want him to take this seriously, Watty," I said, with a sigh. "I'm not sure he completely understands how serious this is. If he has any hope of us being together, in any way at all, he has to take this seriously."

Watty nodded. "I think he does, Rayna. I hope he does. I think the fact that you wouldn't take him made him realize that it's all on him. I do think he takes this seriously."

I tried to smile, but failed. "Well, I appreciate you taking him. I just don't think I could have done it. I'm just still too angry. Too hurt."

He smiled at me knowingly. "I know you're angry. But I think you would have had trouble letting him go, in the end."

I sighed. "You're probably right. I'm just so scared for him. I want to protect him."

He reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently. "He'll be gone for thirty days. He'll have time to get on the right track." He smiled at me, understanding in his eyes. "He loves you, Rayna. He wants to do right by you. He wants to be able to come home."

I felt tears rolling down my face as I looked into the face of the man who'd helped me in so many ways. Now he was helping me navigate this unfamiliar path with Deacon. He'd been more of a father to me than my own. "I hope he can, Watty. I really do." I wiped at my eyes. "I love him," I choked out. "I need him."

Watty patted my hand. "Call me if you need anything." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to me. Then he got up and let himself out.

I turned the envelope over and saw my name written on the front, in Deacon's handwriting. I took a deep breath and laid it down on the coffee table. I wasn't ready for that yet. I got up and walked out onto the porch and sat on the swing. After a moment, I laid down, leaning my head on the pillow, and cried.

###

I had really had enough. The minute we got back to Nashville, he'd fallen right back into his old patterns. Bucky had been telling me for a while that Deacon had a real problem, but I didn't want to listen. It had taken that doctor telling me, to make me stop protecting Deacon. The trouble was, that was all I knew how to do. I worked hard to keep him safe and alive. But it was time for Deacon to take responsibility for himself. I knew that.

That last time in the hospital had been my wake-up call. I had never been more scared in my life. Of all the times I'd rescued Deacon, that was the first time I truly thought I'd lost him and I knew I couldn't keep doing that.

 _Deacon really did look sorry and I had a hard time not letting myself get lost in that. I stood by his hospital bed, thinking about how close I'd been to losing him forever, and I took a deep breath before I finally spoke. "I can't do this again, Deacon. I think your drinking is gonna kill you one day. You're just gonna go down in flames and I can't go down with you. I can't watch you do this." I choked on a sob and put my hand over my mouth while I regained my composure. I wiped a tear away. "I love you so much. I just feel such physical pain watching you do this to yourself and I just can't watch it anymore. Fix this. Please fix this. For us."_

 _He took a deep breath, tears running down his cheeks. He bit his lip and then rubbed his face with his hands. "I'll do anything, baby," he said, his voice soft. "Anything. I don't mean to hurt you. I don't mean to cause you pain."_

 _I nodded. "I know you don't. But you do anyway." I took a step closer to him and took his hand. He gripped it tightly. "You're my future, Deacon. Every time I think about the future, you're in it. I need you to be there, with me. Do you understand?"_

 _He nodded. "You're my future too, Ray. You know that. I love you, baby, more than anything."_

 _I tried to smile. "I want you to go to rehab," I said quietly. "I'm afraid for you, for us, if you don't do this. Will you do this, for me? For us?"_

 _He pulled me down to sit on the bed next to him. He looked into my eyes, his all sad and soulful, and breathed in. "I'll do whatever you want, Ray. If that's what you want, I'll go. Just please don't leave me. Please be here when I get back."_

 _I put my hand on his cheek and then leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. "I want to be," I told him._

" _Will you take me?"_

 _I looked at him a minute and shook my head. "No. Watty's gonna take you. I think it's better that way." I took a deep breath. "In fact, he's gonna take you from here."_

 _Deacon got a worried look on his face. "But I wanna come home first, Ray. I need to be with you, one more night, at least, before I gotta go," he pleaded._

 _This was why I had decided he had to go now. I knew he'd beg and I knew I'd be weak if I let him come home, even for just one night. It was better this way. For both of us. I shook my head and then I started to cry. He reached for me and held me close, crying himself. I let him kiss me and I held him tightly. Then I pulled back. "I need to go," I said. I put my hand on his cheek. "I love you, Deacon. I need you to do this and get better. Please."_

 _He kissed me once more and then I forced myself to pull out of his embrace and get up off the bed. "Please be there when I'm done," he said, brokenly._

" _I want to be," I said and then I had to turn and go. I couldn't stand there anymore or I would tell Watty to leave and I would have taken Deacon home. I felt like I was being torn apart, leaving him there. I just hoped he would do the work and get better._

The house felt empty. Everywhere I looked I could feel his presence, smell his scent, see him. But he wasn't there and I didn't know how I would live for the next thirty days without him. But I had to. Just like he did. And at the end of the thirty days we would see where we were.

* * *

 _I woke up to Deacon planting little kisses up my shoulder and onto my neck. The feel of his breath against my skin gave me delicious chills. His hand ran down my stomach and gently caressed me between my legs. I moaned deep in my throat and then I turned in his arms and let him kiss me. "Oh, babe, this feels good," I murmured as I moved against him. Then he rolled me onto my back and his lovemaking took my breath away._

 _When we finally found our release and lay tangled in each other's arms, our breathing slowing, he kissed me gently. "Happy birthday, baby," he said, with a smile._

 _I grinned at him and then kissed him back. "I couldn't have asked for a better birthday wake-up than that," I said. Today was my eighteenth birthday. I remembered thinking that I would feel so grown up on this day, but the truth was that I'd grown up that day Daddy kicked me out, a year and a half ago. And even though I'd done it with Deacon, I had learned to stand on my own two feet, without the Wyatt name or money to protect me. Deacon and I were building a career, just as I'd hoped. We were finally earning some money. Not a lot, to be sure, but enough to feel like we were going to make it._

 _Bucky had booked us on several short tours and that had given us a lot of confidence in our music and our future. We were hoping that before too long we would be the top billed act at these venues. We'd recorded a demo, but nothing had come of it. Still we weren't discouraged and today, on my eighteenth birthday, I felt proud of what we were doing and excited to be doing it with Deacon._

 _He nuzzled my neck and I giggled. "What do you want to do today?" he asked, with a smile._

 _It was late spring, so it was pleasantly warm. "How about that place by the river?" I asked. "Maybe a picnic or something?"_

 _He ran his finger over my cheek. "Is that what you want?" I nodded. "Then that's what we'll do." He pulled me closer and kissed me. "I'll go get food and you be ready when I get back and we'll go."_

 _###_

 _Deacon surprised me with not only a picnic lunch, but a beautiful single red rose. He ran it under my nose, as we sat on the blanket by the creek, and I laughed. "This is so beautiful," I said as I took it from him and inhaled deeply. "Thank you." I leaned in and kissed him._

 _He ran his thumb over my cheek. "I got it with the thorns off," he said. "The lady at the flower shop told me that meant love at first sight." His eyes got a little misty as he looked at me._

 _I caught my breath. Deacon was always good to me, treated me with love always, but I'd never actually thought of him as romantic and I felt swept away by the romance of the gesture. "Oh, babe," I whispered. "I love that you did this."_

 _He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply. I put my arms around his neck, still holding the rose in my hand. He pulled at my blouse, freeing it from the waistband of my skirt, and ran his hands over my back. I felt thrills of pleasure run up and down my spine, and I dropped the rose on the grass behind us. I loved the feel of his hands, with their rough callouses on his fingers, as they gently played over my skin. I was getting more and more turned on. He whispered sweet 'I love you's' in my ear, in between kisses. He took his time, giving me pleasure that seemed to just come in waves, over and over._

" _Happy birthday, baby," he whispered and then he took me over the edge._

 _###_

 _We were laying face to face, with hardly any space between us, my fingers threaded through his. I looked into his eyes and he smiled. "Tell me about your family, babe," I said softly. He tensed and his face got dark. I knew this was a sensitive subject. I'd only been to Natchez with him once, when his niece was born, and he'd whisked us away as quickly as he could._

 _He worked his lip. His eyes grew sad and distant. "It ain't a good story, baby," he said._

 _I took a deep breath. "But I want to hear it," I said. "I love you, Deacon, and I want to know about you. You know about me, but I don't know about you. Except for Beverly." I smiled at him. "You know how bad my life was, with my parents fighting, and my mom dying. Please?"_

 _He sighed. "Rayna, you don't even know what bad is. I get that your mama and daddy fought and stuff and your mama dyin' was sad and all, but you don't want to hear this. I promise you."_

 _In the end, I don't think he told me all of it, but what he did tell me broke my heart. Hearing how his father destroyed their lives with his drinking and the violence he brought into the house. Listening to him tell me about the terror he and Beverly lived with, how their mother couldn't even protect them, didn't have the ability to keep her own children safe. How he'd finally left it all behind and why Beverly resented him so much, blaming him for leaving her behind and forcing her to find her own ways to survive._

 _When he was done, I just held him close to me. "That's not you, though, Deacon, you know that," I said, finally._

 _He turned in my arms and looked up at me, his eyes tortured. "You don't know that, Ray. I could be just like him," he said._

 _I shook my head. "But I know you. I've known you for almost two years. I've lived with you and loved you and worked beside you. You're nothing like him."_

" _But there's times I feel dark inside. You know that. I could be like him." His eyes were red with unshed tears._

" _I don't believe that." But I did know that sometimes he drew inside himself. When things were tough, he'd pull away. I'd seen him drunk, but never like what he described about his father. I ran my hand over his face. "The thing is, babe, you know what not to do. And I know you, you'll be sure that doesn't happen."_

 _He sighed and looked away, out over the creek. "We can't know that, not for sure" he said. He took a deep breath. Then he took my hand in his and rubbed his thumb over it. He looked back up at me. "I wanna marry you someday, Ray, and have babies with you. But it scares me that I might be like him. I wouldn't wanna be, but what if I can't help it? What if it's in my blood?"_

 _I stared down at him. To hear him say he wanted to marry me and have a family someday, well, it was all I'd ever wanted, and my heart sang. I didn't want to believe that he could be like his father, but when he said that about blood, I had to wonder. But then I shook my head. "No. We won't let that happen. We'll get married, and have babies, and we'll make it work. You'll see."_

 _He looked at me for a long time, almost so long that I got worried. But then he grabbed me in his arms and kissed me, tugging at my lip so that I opened my mouth to his. And then he rolled me under him and I lost myself again in the love._

* * *

I woke with a start, nearly falling out of the porch swing. I must have dozed off. Not surprising. With all the anxiety of the day, I was exhausted. I sat up and then pushed myself out of the swing, walking back in the house. I saw the letter on the table and sat down on the couch. I just looked at it for a few minutes. Standing there, next to him, in the hospital had been _hard_. I hadn't promised him I'd be here when he got back, mainly because I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I had no idea what might be in this envelope, despite what Watty said. Finally I turned it over and slid my fingernail into the fold at the top of the envelope and ripped it open. I pulled out a sheet of paper and laid it on the table, smoothing it out with my hands. I looked at it for a few minutes before I picked it up.

I took a deep breath and started to read. _Dear Ray, I'm so so sorry. I know I screwed up and I know you're mad at me and I'm just so sorry. I'm gonna do this rehab thing and come back stronger than ever. I promise you. I love you, baby. I couldn't stand watching you walk away from me and I don't ever want that to happen again. So I promise I'll do better. I'll stop drinking and be clean and sober, you'll see. I'm gonna do this for you, Ray. Because I love you more than anything on this earth. I don't ever want to hurt you again. Love, Deacon_

I took a deep breath. I was so afraid. I was afraid he wouldn't be able to do it. I was afraid I wasn't strong enough to support him. I was afraid this would tear us apart. But I wanted to believe in him. I loved him with every fiber of my being and I wanted him to be well, be strong, be healthy, be sober. I had to trust that he could do this, that he _would_ do this. For himself and for us.

I felt the tears start to flow and I covered my mouth with my hand. I started to shake with the sobs until finally I was overcome with my grief and anguish. _Oh God, please don't disappoint me, Deacon. Please be strong and make this work._

###

Tandy had been bugging me for days to get together, so I finally agreed to meet her for lunch. I made her meet me at Arnold's Country Kitchen. I knew she would hate it, that it would feel beneath her, but it was a favorite of mine and Deacon's. The generous portions meant that we could afford to splurge occasionally and order one meal and split it. And the food was simple, delicious, and filling.

After we ordered, we made small talk, about my album and the tour and her work. "Are you going out on the road again any time soon?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing firm. Bucky's working on a few things. I think getting to go out on the road with George Strait helped, because people have heard of me now."

Tandy smiled. "I hear your song on the radio all the time. It's kind of crazy to hear it and think 'that's my sister!'" She reached for my hand. "I'm really proud of you, babe. I know I wasn't always the most supportive sister, but I just didn't want you to be disappointed if things didn't work out."

I nodded and squeezed her hand. "I know. I understand. But you didn't have anything to worry about."

" _And_ you got nominated for an award." She grinned.

I couldn't help it, I got a huge smile on my face. "Yeah, it's kind of unbelievable. I mean, I didn't do it for the awards, but that's awfully nice. And Bucky's trying to get me on the show as a performer."

"That's really amazing."

I took a sip of my iced tea. "So, how's working for Daddy?" I asked, trying to be casual about it.

Tandy rolled her eyes. "He's as hard on me as any other junior exec. But I'm enjoying it." She looked at me. "You know, you could have done this too, if you hadn't been so interested in music. You're so smart."

I gave her a look. "There's no way I could have worked for Daddy. We would have killed each other, I'm sure." I rarely saw Daddy, because he couldn't tolerate Deacon for more than a few minutes. We went to Thanksgiving lunch each year and it always turned into a shouting match, so I avoided him the rest of the year.

Tandy smiled. "Well, I think you have a great head on your shoulders, Rayna. You've always been very practical, even if you did have your head in the clouds. You might surprise yourself and get into the business side of things one day."

I just laughed at her. Business was so foreign to me, although I did enjoy listening to Bucky and Watty talk to Dan about all the business aspects of my career. But I couldn't see myself not performing. Just then our food came and the conversation stopped as we started to eat.

I watched Tandy pick at the meatloaf and smiled to myself. She was so out of place here. She looked up at me and frowned. "I can't believe you brought me to this place," she hissed.

"Oh, hush, Tandy," I said. "It's right on the edge of downtown. It's not like you're in East Nashville."

She rolled her eyes. Then she laid down her fork and leaned towards me. "So how are you?" she asked.

I looked at her. "Fine." Something told me that the question was leading somewhere.

She frowned. "Really? What's the story with Deacon?"

"There's no story with Deacon," I said, not looking at her. I hated when she brought up Deacon. All she did was tell me he wasn't good enough for me and I was tired of it.

"That's not what I heard." She sat back. "I heard he's in rehab."

I looked up in surprise. "Where did you hear that?" She gave me a look. I sighed and shook my head. "Daddy? How would Daddy know?"

She shrugged. "Daddy knows everything, you know that." She tapped her fingers on the table. "Rayna, I think you should cut him loose. He's just going to make your life miserable."

I dropped my fork. "Are you serious? Tandy, he's going to _get better_. Why would I 'cut him loose', as you say, if he's going to get this under control and be better?" He was halfway through the program and, when I talked to him, he already sounded healthier. I was more sure every day that he was going to beat this.

Tandy raised her eyebrows. "Rehab rarely works the first time. More than likely, he'll end up having to go again."

I scowled at her. "You don't even know him. You and Daddy, neither one of you has taken the time to really get to know him. So you have no idea how he'll do. He's totally committed to this and he _will_ get better. And _stay_ better. I _know_ he will."

She looked skeptical. "I think you're too close to it, sweetheart. I'd be willing to bet you that he'll be back in rehab inside a year." She looked hard at me. "Don't be that woman that can't let go of a drunk. Don't be that woman that lets herself get dragged down into that cesspool right along with him."

I was boiling inside. I threw down my napkin and stood up. "I'm not going to listen to you anymore," I said angrily. "If you can't support me, then I guess we don't have anything else to say." I turned and walked out the door. I could hear Tandy calling my name as I rushed out of the restaurant and out into the parking lot. Tears were streaming down my face as I practically ran to my car, Tandy calling after me as she left the restaurant too. But I'd gotten a good head start and I got in my car and pulled out of the parking lot before she could catch up with me.

###

When I got home, I went out back and sat on the deck. This had been one of the nicer features of this house. It was a great place for us to play, practicing the songs we'd write. We still wrote together, knowing that the songs we wrote would need to be songs I could sing lead on, with Deacon harmonizing. It was a shift for us, but in the end, it would mean that we could still do our music. Dan had made the decisions on the music that went on my first album, which meant there were a lot of songs written by other writers. Bucky assured me that, if this album did well, I'd have more leverage to include mine and Deacon's songs on the next. With the George Strait tour and the CMA nomination, he thought it was an even better possibility now.

I had loved sitting out here with Deacon and singing what we'd written. I missed that right now. It was hard to sleep at night with him not there. And the house seemed cold and empty without him. I missed him. My heart ached with missing him.

I got up and ran back in the house, picking up the phone and dialing the rehab center. I knew they wouldn't let me speak to him then – there were prescribed times when patients could call out – but I hoped maybe they would let him know I'd called. And then I waited. I was going to tell him I wanted him to come home. I couldn't do this without him. I didn't _want_ to do this without him. No matter what happened. I'd be there waiting for him on day thirty.

* * *

 _I never knew how many festivals there were in the summer, all across the country, until that summer after I turned eighteen. And then state fairs in the fall. That became our bread and butter, in addition to short tours to open for some of Bucky's other acts. At festivals and fairs, sometimes we were opening acts on a main stage, part of a day of music for attendees. Some events had multiple stages and we'd have an assigned time slot. It was an exciting time and allowed us to try out a lot of new music. The little travel trailer that Watty had loaned us became a real home away from home and I tried to make it as comfortable and homey as I could._

 _As we spent more time out on the road, we finally started making some real money, which made us feel like we were just a lucky break away from being discovered. But getting noticed in Nashville was a lot harder than I had expected. Bucky kept telling us there were lots of struggling artists, just like us, trying to find that magic bullet that would take them to the top. We just had to keep working at it and be persistent._

 _The best part was that Deacon and I became more entwined with each other as time went on. He became my family. I still saw Tandy occasionally and Deacon and I had gone to Daddy's at Thanksgiving the year before, but Deacon was who I relied on, who supported me and encouraged me. Watty had always told us that we had something special when we sang together and we'd started hearing that as we spent more time in front of audiences._

 _I'd noticed that when we sang together, it almost seemed like we were at home, sitting on our couch, singing to each other. It was that intimate and felt that powerful. It was as though we were just singing to each other. I knew it was magical and I also knew that the life we'd created together was a large part of why that was._

 _After my birthday, though, when Deacon had told me about his troubled family life, he seemed to start drinking more. It wasn't alarming and it didn't cause problems, but I noticed it. It surprised me, too, considering how torn up he'd been when he'd shared all those bad memories. But if I mentioned it, he'd get ticked off at me, so most of the time I let it go. But as we moved into fall, things were getting more out of hand._

 _We'd met Vince, a musician around Deacon's age, who was, like us, trying to get a foothold in the business. He was just a musician, so we saw him frequently, picking up spots in various bands around town, filling in for someone. He and Deacon hit it off and soon were thick as thieves. Vince always had a girl on his arm and the three of us, and Vince's girl of the moment, would often hang out together. Vince was a real drinker, though, and I always felt like he was the one that got Deacon started down that path._

 _###_

 _We'd finished our set at the Wild West Country Fest in Tulsa in front of an enthusiastic crowd. We'd had one of the later sets, which meant it was already dark when we ended and we hurried back to the truck. Our little travel trailer was hooked up at an RV park a mile or so from where the festival was located. We were scheduled at a festival the next day in Amarillo and needed to be on the road early, since we were on the stage mid-afternoon._

 _When we got to the truck, Deacon pulled me into his arms and swung me around, kissing me hard. "We had 'em eatin' out of the palm of our hands, baby!" he cried out loud._

 _I laughed, my arms around his neck. "That felt so amazing," I agreed. "I wish they'd all be like that." I tried to keep my expectations in check, but when we had the kind of connection with a crowd that we seemed to have that night, it was hard not to want more. We talked often, at night, about singing in a big arena, in front of twenty thousand fans. That was the dream._

 _We were running on adrenaline, all the way back to the RV park. I slid over in the bench seat next to him, his arm tight around my shoulders. I was on a high, full of energy, and couldn't wait to get to the trailer and work off some of that energy in bed. But when we got to our space, we saw a group of people hanging out at the trailer next to ours, other musicians and performers from the festival, some of whom we knew and some we didn't. But one we definitely knew was Vince, and he was already holding court with a beer in his hand._

 _As we pulled up, I felt some anxiety, although I couldn't have said then why. When we got out of the truck, Vince stood up and called out to us. "Hey, Deacon! Rayna! Come on over!"_

 _I pulled at Deacon's hand. He turned to look at me. "Let's not, babe," I said, under my breath. "We gotta be on the road early."_

 _Deacon hesitated. He looked over at the group, laughing and drinking, and took a deep breath. Then he looked back at me. "Ah, baby, just for a few minutes," he said. "It'll be good to blow off some steam."_

 _I'd hoped to blow off that steam another way, but I just shrugged. "Sure," I said, not feeling very enthusiastic. I was still way under age and so I didn't drink much. Deacon had offered to get me a fake ID, but I'd said no. I wasn't sure I liked the taste of whiskey and I sure didn't like the taste of beer. Deacon didn't drink beer often, but when he did, I always hated kissing him then. I had to admit that whiskey flavored kisses were better, although I still hadn't acquired the taste for it myself._

 _We sat with the group and I watched as Deacon drank beer after beer. I didn't say much, just listened to the conversation, watching Deacon. When he'd finished his fourth beer and started to get up to get another, I pulled on his arm. He turned to look at me. "Don't you think that's enough?" I asked. "We have to be up early."_

 _He looked at me for a moment and then frowned, looking angry. "What the hell, Rayna?" he said, his voice low. "We're right here. What difference does it make?"_

 _I didn't understand why he was mad. "I just…" I started._

 _He shook off my hand on his arm and got up. "It ain't a big deal," he said, then walked over and got another beer._

 _After two more beers, he was laughing a little too loud and slurring his words a little, and I was getting angry. At this point, I was going to have to drive, because I knew he'd be too hung over. I tugged on his sleeve and he turned to look at me, irritation on his face. "Deacon, we need to call it a night," I said._

" _You_ _can call it a night. I ain't ready," he said angrily._

 _That surprised me. We rarely fought, and when we did he was usually drunk. I frowned. "Well, I'll just do that," I said, getting up and heading for our trailer._

 _I hoped he would follow me shortly, but he didn't. I changed into some pajamas and got into bed. At first, I was too mad to fall asleep, but eventually exhaustion caught up with me and I finally dozed off._

 _###_

 _When I woke up, Deacon wasn't in bed with me. I felt a sense of panic and scrambled out of the little sleeping alcove. I threw on some jeans and a jacket and ran out into the RV park. It was still fairly early and it was quiet, not much activity going on. I wasn't sure where he might be, but I thought I'd start with the trailer Vince was in. I walked up and banged on the door. I heard a muffled "what the fuck?" and finally, the door opened. It wasn't Vince and I didn't remember the guy's name. "What the hell, lady?" he asked, glaring at me._

" _Where's Vince?" I demanded, not caring what he thought._

" _How the hell should I know?" he said, somewhat belligerently. "He left with some other guys to hit the bars near here."_

 _I felt a chill run up my spine. "Was Deacon with him?"_

" _I don't know. Maybe. Probably." Then he slammed the door in my face._

 _At first, I was startled, not sure what to do. But clearly he wasn't going to help me, so I ran back to our trailer and got the truck keys. I was thankful Deacon hadn't driven. I got in the truck and headed out of the park, not exactly sure where to go. I turned the way I thought was towards the festival grounds and got lucky. Deacon, Vince, and some other guy I didn't know, were passed out in the bed of Vince's truck, outside of the first bar I came to._

 _I opened the tailgate and climbed in. I walked over to Deacon and knelt down bedside him. I poked his arm, hard. He made an angry noise and pushed at my hand. "Deacon, wake up," I said, angrily._

 _He opened one eye. "What the hell?" he murmured._

" _Get up," I said, a little louder. "We have to go." He just looked at me, not moving. I pulled at his arm. "Let's go, Deacon!"_

 _He shook me off, with a growl. Then he pushed himself up to a half sitting position, glaring at me. "Leave me alone," he said._

" _No, I'm not leaving you alone. We're supposed to be on the road, Deacon, and now we're late. I need you to get up." I stood, looking down at him, almost daring him to defy me. "I told you not to do this."_

 _He looked away, but he managed to push himself up onto his knees. He groaned, breathing in and out. Then he suddenly heaved and puked all over the truck bed. I scrambled out of the way and then hopped off the truck. He was on all fours, breathing hard. I could smell the alcohol and it made my stomach turn. I walked back towards our truck, tears in my eyes._

 _A few minutes later, I could hear his unsteady footsteps behind me. I turned to look at him. He was a mess. His hair was in disarray, his clothes dirty, his eyes bloodshot and red rimmed. My heart sank. We weren't going to make it to Amarillo and I was pissed. I also was scared. I'd never seen Deacon like this and I just hoped it wasn't going to be a regular thing._

" _Get in the truck," I said, feeling weary._

 _When we got back to the trailer, he grabbed my arm as I got ready to get out of the truck. "Ray, I'm sorry," he said._

 _I looked at him. "I hope so, Deacon. Because I'm gonna have to call Bucky and tell him we're not gonna make Amarillo today. And I don't know what he's gonna say. But we can't do this again. You can't do this again."_

" _I won't, I promise," he said, looking at me with sadness in his eyes._

 _I just shook my head and got out of the truck._

* * *

I had CMA practice late that afternoon. I was performing – Dan had succeeded in getting me on the show – and I had to be there to run through my number. I was using one of the session guitar players, so it was especially important that we practice on the Opry stage. It wasn't my first time playing at the Opry – I'd made my debut with Deacon over a year earlier and we'd played there several times – but this was on a national stage, since the show would be televised across the country. I tried not to be too nervous, but I was anyway.

Deacon was at an AA meeting. He'd been home for almost a month and he'd been diligent about working his program and going to meetings. He'd cried on the phone that night I'd told him I would be there to pick him up and bring him home. I think he half expected me not to be, that day I stood in the parking lot and watched for him to walk out of the facility door. I had cried when I saw him, looking healthy and strong, and he had picked me up and kissed me for the longest time.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was after eleven. Deacon should have been home before ten. I couldn't help it, but a little niggle of fear ran up my spine. I wondered when I wouldn't worry, every time he was out of my sight. He'd stayed away from Vince, although that hadn't been easy. I worried now that he'd run into him and that Vince had talked him into going to a bar….

The back door slammed shut. "Ray?" he called out. "Ray, where are you?" He sounded excited, happy, and I ran into the kitchen.

He did look excited and happy. He had a smile on his face and he looked like he had some big news. My heart was beating out of my chest, happy to see him and glad he was okay. "What's up, babe?"

He walked over and scooped me up in his arms, spinning me around and kissing me. "I got a surprise for you," he said. He was excited, I could tell, almost manic. A tiny warning bell went off, but I leaned into him and put my face against his neck, breathing in deeply. No alcohol smell.

I covered my suspicion by kissing him right below his earlobe. Then I leaned back and smiled at him. "What's up?"

He set me down on the floor and then took my hand, pulling me towards the back door. "Come on. I got someplace to take you."

I stopped, pulling him back. "Babe, I've got CMA practice at four."

He squeezed my hand. "I know. I'll have you back before then."

"Where are we going?"

He smiled again, his eyes dancing with joy. "It's a surprise." He pulled me close again and kissed my forehead. "Let's go!"

###

I had started to panic as we kept driving north. "Deacon, I swear if I'm not back…."

He'd grabbed my hand and smiled at me. "Relax, baby. I'll have you back in time. I promise. But it's gonna be worth it."

Turned out he was right. He turned off a county highway just north of the Kentucky-Tennessee border, still not telling me what we were doing. When we finally came to a stop and he turned off the truck, we had parked in front of a house alongside a lake. It was a pretty peaceful place, I could tell.

"What are we doing here?" I asked him. "Whatever it is, we have to do this fast, 'cause I gotta get to my CMA rehearsal." We got out of the truck and Deacon sprinted around to grab me by the hand.

"What's more important, me or a CMA rehearsal?" he asked.

"Well, it's not a competition, but it _is_ my first nomination and I'm singing," I replied, as we hurried down the wide porch.

"Well, it's not gonna be the last," he said and then he covered my eyes with his hand. When we walked in the house, he took his hand away and I gasped with pleasure. "So, I know when you're a country music star, this might not seem like much…"

I was entranced. "Deacon, it's my dream house!" I walked around, looking at the huge open room. It absolutely was the house I'd told Deacon over and over again that I wanted.

"Well, there's still a lot of payments to make on your dream house," he said, a happy grin on his face.

I knew I should be upset with him, doing this right out of rehab, exactly what they said not to do. I just couldn't believe how perfect it was. "Deacon, you know…" I said, as I walked back over to him.

He put his arms around me and pulled me in. "I know, not supposed to make big decisions right out of rehab. But you weren't supposed to have to put me there." He kissed me. "You love me more than I deserve."

I put my arms around his neck and shook my head. "Don't ever say that," I said, running my hand over his cheek.

His eyes looked a little misty. "Are you happy?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I'm happy."

###

He showed me around the house. The upstairs bedrooms were partially furnished with, fortunately, beds, which we took advantage of, to celebrate our dream house. As we lay there together, tangled up in each other, I asked, "When did you do this?"

He looked a little sheepish. "Actually I found this place before I went to rehab and started the process of buying it then. I went today after my meeting to pick up the keys." _So that was why he'd been late._ "I been wanting to do this for you, ever since you told me this was your dream."

I kissed him. "You know you didn't have to. Being with you is my dream."

He smiled and blushed a little. "Well, this is the place we're gonna grow old in together, Ray. We can live here and raise up a family together. This is our place for the rest of our lives."

Now it was my turn to get misty. "I love it, Deacon. It's absolutely perfect. The perfect place for us, for the rest of our lives." I moved in closer to him and kissed him hungrily, loving the gesture and loving him.

I was almost late for rehearsal after all.

* * *

 _Bucky was furious when I called to tell him we wouldn't make it to Amarillo. I told him Deacon was sick, some kind of stomach bug, and that he couldn't keep any food down, was too weak to get up on stage. I wasn't sure if he believed me, but it was close enough to the truth. I didn't speak to Deacon for several hours. He kept telling me he was sorry, begging me to talk to him, and then he finally figured out he needed to just shut up and leave me alone._

 _The next stop for us was down in Houston, but it was five days away. I decided we'd stay another day or so at the RV park in Tulsa. Vince was leaving that day, I knew, and he wouldn't be in Houston. He'd be with the band he was currently hooked up with, out in California. I breathed a little more easily when I saw Vince and his bandmates pull out. Vince had looked worse than Deacon, but, truthfully, I didn't much care right then._

 _Deacon slept for several hours and I sat in the little dinette and read one of the trashy paperbacks that he always teased me about. Even though the storylines were ridiculous and I usually giggled over the absurdity, now I found myself crying over them, wishing I hadn't had to watch my man puke all over himself._

 _###_

 _Darkness had settled over Tulsa when Deacon finally woke up. I gave him a small smile and then I heated up some canned spaghetti for the two of us. I set out a ginger ale and two aspirin by his plate, which he downed immediately._

 _He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry, baby," he said quietly. "I know I messed up and I know you had to take it all from Bucky."_

 _I didn't say anything right away, just divided the food on the two plates and brought them over to the little dinette, setting them down. I sat across from Deacon and looked at him. "Yeah, Bucky was mad. We don't really have the luxury of missing a gig, Deacon. You know that." I sighed. "I told him you had the stomach flu, but I don't know if he believed that." I pushed my spaghetti around on my plate. "That can't happen again."_

 _He reached out and took my hand. "It won't. I swear, it won't."_

 _I looked at him. "Ever. I mean it, Deacon. I mean, you just told me how afraid you were that you'd be a drunk like your father and then you do this."_

 _He looked away. "I know. I don't know what happens…."_

" _Vince happens. You don't have to keep up with him, you know." Deacon nodded. "Please don't do that again."_

 _He looked back at me, his eyes filled with sorrow and shame. "I won't. I promise."_

 _Later that night, I pulled out my mom's old guitar, the one I still carried around with me, even though I hardly used it. I, badly, picked out one of my favorite songs on it and sang to Deacon._

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me / There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me / The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall / You say it best when you say nothing at all

 _We slept that night curled up around each other, determined to put this behind us and move on._

* * *

I was so nervous. Singing at the CMA's was a huge win for me. Being nominated too was just the icing on the cake. Dan had wanted me to sing "Notice Me" or "Already Gone", but I really wanted to do my new song. I'd written it while Deacon was in rehab and it was the first song I'd written all by myself in a long time. It was just me on the stage with one guitar player, plus an orchestra quartet behind me. While I was waiting in the dressing room for my cue, I thought about my future. My future with Deacon. I was so proud of him for going to rehab and admitting he had a problem. I was so sure that all of that was behind us now.

The house at the lake was kind of like a promise, that we were in it for the long haul. That would be our special place, the place where we'd spend the rest of our lives together, grow old together, raise a family together, just like we'd talked about. Then, the PA knocked on the door and opened it.

"Miss Jaymes, we're ready for you," she said and then waited for me to walk out of the room. I followed her through the hall of the Opry House towards the stage. When we got to the staging area, she looked at me and smiled. "Good luck," she said.

I smiled back. "Thank you," I whispered. I looked over and saw Ben, the guitar player Dan had arranged for the night. I wondered what Deacon was thinking, sitting out in the audience. I would have liked for him to be out on stage with me, but he wasn't quite ready for that. My hands felt damp and my heart was racing. And then Vince Gill was introducing me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, one of the bright new stars in country music, nominated tonight for the Horizon Award. Please welcome Miss Rayna Jaymes!"

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard, then put on a smile and walked out to meet Vince. He took my hand and squeezed it, then gave me a little hug, and walked off, leaving me standing there. I turned to look out into the audience and was actually glad the lights were so bright I could hardly see anything. It made it easier. I walked up to the mic and took it off the stand, taking two steps to the side. Ben was behind me and he started the opening melody. When I finally started to sing, the nervousness miraculously melted away.

 _I had a dream about a burning house / You were stuck inside / I couldn't get you out / I laid beside you and pulled you close / And the two of us went up in smoke  
_

 _Love isn't all that it seems I did you wrong / I'll stay here with you until this dream is gone  
_

 _I've been sleepwalking / Been wandering all night / Trying to take what's lost and broken / Make it right / I've been sleepwalking / Too close to the fire / But it's the only place that I can hold you tight / In this burning house  
_

 _See you at a party and you look the same / I could take you back / But people don't ever change / Wish that we could go back in time / I'd be the one you thought you'd find  
_

 _Love isn't all that it seems I did you wrong / I'll stay here with you until this dream is gone_

 _I've been sleepwalking / Been wandering all night / Trying to take what's lost and broken / Make it right / I've been sleepwalking / Too close to the fire / But it's the only place that I can hold you tight / In this burning house  
_

 _The flames are getting bigger now / In this burning house / I can hold on to you somehow / In this burning house / Oh when I don't want to wake up / In this burning house  
_

 _I've been sleepwalking / Been wandering all night / Trying to take what's lost and broken / Make it right / I've been sleepwalking / Too close to the fire / But it's the only place that I can hold you tight / In this burning house  
_

I hadn't realized how lost I'd gotten in the song until I heard the applause of the audience. It was loud and enthusiastic and I knew, as I stood there, that I had touched their hearts with my song. It was all I'd ever wanted to do with my life and now I was doing it. Deacon had told me, back when I first met him, that music was three chords and the truth, and that I needed to reach deep down inside to find my truth. Certainly the music we'd written together was our truth, our truth together. But this had been my own truth. I had sung about my fears and worry, but it was also my promise to Deacon that I would be there with him, in the fire, holding him close. I didn't know any other way to live my life. I didn't want to live my life any other way, except by his side.

###

Late that night, we sat on the couch, Deacon's arm around me, my hand resting on his thigh. My Horizon Award sat on the coffee table. He leaned in and kissed me gently on my temple. "I was so proud of you tonight, baby," he whispered.

I turned to look at him. "Really?" I wanted him to be. There was no one else whose opinion mattered like his.

He looked serious, as he nodded. "Watty was right. You're gonna be a star. You're gonna be the queen of country music, real soon." He brushed my lips with a kiss. "And I promise I'll be right there with you."

I leaned into him and kissed him back. "All I ever wanted was for us to do this together, you know? I know we're gonna make this all work."

He nodded. "That was a pretty song, Ray. I'm sorry you had to write that, but it really was a pretty song."

I smiled at him. "I'm always gonna be there for you, Deacon. With you. We're in this together. All the way." Then he leaned in towards me, taking me in his arms, pushing me gently back onto the couch. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close to me and I vowed to myself I would never again let him go.

 _ **The chorus from the song the younger Rayna sings to Deacon is from "When You Say Nothing At All" by Keith Whitley.**_

 _ **The song that Rayna sings at the CMA's is "Burning House" by Cam. I heard her sing the first verse and the chorus on the Bobby Bones show and I knew this was a Deacon/Rayna song. If you've never heard it, you should consider giving it a listen.**_

 _ **So, when I started this I intended for this to be the end point, so I think it will be….**_

 _ **The End**_


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